Forbidden

Colors
BOOKS BY YUKIO MISHIMA

The Sea of Fertility, a Cycle of Novels:

The Decay of the Angel (1974)
The Temple of Dawn (1973)
Runaway Horses (1973)
Spring Snow (1972)

Sun and Steel (1972)

Thirst for Love (1969)*
Forbidden Colors (1968)*
Confessions of a Mask (1968)
Death in Midsummer and Other Stories (1966)
The SailorWho FeU from Grace with the Sea (1965)*
After the Banquet (1963)*
The Temple of the Golden Pavilion (1959)*
Five Modern No Plays (1957)
The Sound ofWaves (1956)*

*AVAILABLE IN PERIGEE BOOKS EDmONS

 YUJGIO MISHIMA

Forbidden Colors

Translated from the Japanese by

ALFRED H. MARKS

A WIDEVIEW/PERIGEE BOOK
 Perigee Books
are published by
G. P. Putnam's Sons
200 Madison Avenue
New York, New York 10016

Copyright © 1968 by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof,
may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Published simultaneously in Canada by Academic Press
Canada Limited, Toronto.

Originally published in Japanese as Kinjiki

by Shinchosha, Tokyo. Copyright 1951, 1953
by Yukio Mishima.

This is an authorized reprint of a hardcover edition

originally published by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Mishima, Yukio, pseud.
Forbidden colors.

Translation of Kinjiki.
Reprint of the ed. published by Knopf, New York.
I. Title.
PZ3.M6878Fo 1980 [PL833.17] 895.6'35 80-14679
ISBN 0-399-50490-7

First Perigee Printing, 1980

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Second Impression
 Contents

I The Beginning 3

2 Mirror Contract 26

3 The Marriage of a Dutiful Son 40

4 Forest Fire in the Distant Twilight 48

5 The First Steps Toward Salvation 6I

6 The Vexations of Womanhood 6g

7 Entrance to the Stage 85

8 The Jungle of Sentiment go

9 Jealousy I03

IO The False Accident and the True IIO

11 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice I25

I2 Gay Party I45

I3 Courtesy I52

I4 Alone and Independent 164

I5 Blue Sunday I70

I6 Flight in Formation I82

I 7 One's Heart's Desire I9I

I8 Sightseer's Misfortune 200

[ v ]
 CONTENTS

19 My Helpmate 210

20 Calamity to Jane Is Calamity to John 226

21 Chuta in Old Age 242

22 The Seducer 251

23 Days of Ripening 272

24 Dialogue 277

25 Turnabout 285

26 Sobering Summer 295

27 Intermezzo 320

28 Hailstones from a Clear Sky 334

29 Deus ex Machina 354

30 Heroic Passion 366

31 Problems Spiritual and Financial 374

32 Grand Finale 39I

[ vi ]
Forbidden
Colors
 C H A PTE R I

THE B E G I N N I N G

YASUKO HAD GROWN accustomed to coming and blithely

seating herself on Shunsuke's lap as he rested in the rattan chair
at the edge of the garden. This brought him great joy.
It was the summer of 1950. Mornings Shunsuke received no
visitors. If he felt like it, he would work. If he didn't, he would
write letters, or have his chair set out in the garden and stretch
out in it with a book, or close his book on his lap and do nothing.
or ring a bell and have a maid bring him tea, or if for some
reason he had not had enough sleep the night before, he would
pull his blanket up to his chin and drop off for a little while.
Although he was five years past sixty, he had no diversions,
nothing worthy of being called a hobby. In fact, he didn't be­
lieve in them. He was entirely deficient in the quality so impor­
tant to a hobby: appreciation of the concrete relationships that
tied him fast to other men. This acute deficiency in objectivity,
accompanied by clumsy, convulsive stabs at establishing a rela­
tionship between his inner world and that which lay outside it,
imparted a certain freshness and naivete even to the works of his
later years, but they took their toll. They took the strength from
the very vitals of his fiction: the dramatic incidents, born of the
collision of human wills; the humorous portrayals; the urge to
limn human character-all nurtured by the rivalry between the
human being and his world. On this score, two or three of the
crustier critics still hesitated to acclaim him a great writer.
Shunsuke's right knee was plagued by seizures of neuralgia.
Before each onset he would feel a dim pain deep inside it. It was
doubtful that his aging, brittle kneecaps could stand the warm

[ 3 ]
 F O R B ID D E N C O L ORS

weight of a young woman upon them for very long. As the pain
increased, however, an expression of joy slyly stole across his
·

features.
Finally he said, "My knee hurts, Yasuko. Let me move my leg
over like this, and you sit there; so."
Yasuko opened her eyes wide and looked at Shunsuke with
concern. He laughed: Yasuko loathed him.
The old novelist understood this loathing. He stood up and
grasped Yasuko by the shoulders. Then he took her chin in his
hand, tipped it back, and kissed her on the lips. Then, his duty
to her thus hurriedly completed, he felt a sudden flash of pain in
his right knee and slumped back in his chair. When he was
finally able to lift up his face and look around him, Yasuko had
disappeared.
A week afterward, he had still not heard from Yasuko. While
taking a walk one day, he dropped by her house. She had gone
with two or three school friends to a hot-springs resort on the
southern coast of the Izu Peninsula. Mter jotting down the name
of the resort in his memo book, he returned home and began
making preparations for a trip. There was a stack of proofs
urgently calling for his attention, but he took care of them for
the time being by saying that he suddenly felt the need to
take a midsummer vacation.
Concerned about the heat, he took an early morning train.
Nevertheless, the back of his white suit was soon soaked with
perspiration. He took a sip of the hot tea in his thermos bottle.
Then he put his slender hand, dry as bamboo, into his pocket
and took out some of the advertising brochures for his next
collected works, given him by one of the people at his publish­
er's.
This new collection of The Works of Shunsuke Hinoki would
be his third. The first one was assembled when he was forty­
five.
At that point in time, I recall, he thought to himself, that in
spite of the great accumulation of my works acclaimed by the
world as the epitome of stability and unity and, in a sense,
having reached the pinnacle, as many predicted, I was quite
given over to this foolishness. Foolishness? Nonsense. Foolish­
ness could never be connected with my works, with my soul,
with my thinking. My works are certainly not foolishness.
(Italics were often a sign that he was speaking ironically.) Not

[ 4 ]
 The Beginning

only that, I was above using thought in mitigation of my foolish­

ness. In order to maintain the purity of my thinking, I kept free
from my foolish activities enough spirit to allow my thoughts to
form. Sex was, however, not the only motivating force. My fool­
ishness had nothing to do with sex or spirit. My foolishness lay in
a wild ability to handle abstractions, which threatened to make
me misanthropic. It still threatens, even now in my sixty-sixth
year.
With a sad smile on his lips, he studied the picture of himself
on the cover of the prospectus he held in his hand.
It was a picture of an ugly old man. That was the only way to
put it. However, it was not difficult to see in it certain dim and
delicate traces of the spiritual beauty so acclaimed by the world.
The broad forehead; the clipped, narrow cheeks; the broad,
hungry lips; the willful chin: in every feature the traces of long,
hard work and of spirit lay open to the light. His face, however,
was not so much molded by spirit as riddled with it. It was a
face in which an excess of soul was laid bare, causing the on­
looker to shrink from looking at it directly, as if it talked too
openly of private things. In its ugliness his face was a corpse
emaciated of spirit, no longer possessing the power to retain its
privacy.
It was their doing. Shunsuke's features were termed beautiful
by that admirable group which, having been poisoned by the
intellectual hedonism of the times, having replaced concern for
humanity with individualism, having extirpated universality
from the sense of beauty, had larcenously and violently torn
beauty from the arms of ethics.
Be that as it may, on the back of the prospectus that boldly
bore the features of an ugly old man, rows of testimonials by
numerous prominent men presented a strange contrast to what
was on the front. These great men of intellect, this flock of bald
parrots prepared to sing a loud song wherever and as directed,
were singing of the uncanny beauty of the works of Shunsuke.
One renowned critic, for example, a well-known Hinoki
scholar, summarized the entire twenty volumes of the works as
follows:

This great shower of works cascading into our hearts was

written in sincerity and finished in mistrust. Mr. Hinoki states
that if he didn't have that instinct of mistrust in his works he
would have thrown them away as soon as written. Was ever

[ J ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

such a row of corpses laid before the eyes of the public?

In Shunsuke Hinoki's works, the unexpected, instability,
the unlucky, misfortune, the unseemly, impropriety-all the
minus quantities of beauty-are depicted. If a certain histori­
cal period is to be used as background, without fail a decadent
period is chosen. If a love story is needed for subject matter,
without fail the emphasis is placed on the hopelessness and
the tedium of it. In his hands the healthy, flourishing form
is a passionate loneliness in the human mind exploding with
the intensity of an epidemic raging in a tropical city. All the
fierce hatreds, the jealousies, the enmities, the passions of
humankind, he does not seem to be concerned with. Not only
that, he finds much more to write about, much more living,
essential value, in a single capillary of warmth in the corpse
of the passions than in a living period of human feeling.
In the midst of coldness comes a clever shudder of feeling.
In the midst of immorality appears an almost ferocious moral­
ity. In the midst of coldness, a heroic unrest makes itself felt.
What masterfully WTought style must this be to intrude into
the purlieus of paradox? It is a rococo style, one out of the old
Heian times. It is a human style in the real sense of the word.
It is a clothed style for the sake of clothing. It is the diametri­
cal opposite of a bare style. It is filled with lovely tucks and
pleats, like those in the sculptures of the Fates in the gable
of the Parthenon, or those in the clothing of the Nike by
Paeonius. Flowing pleats, flying pleats, not simply those that
follow the motions of the body and so subordinate themselves
to its lines. These are pleats that flow of themselves, that of
themselves fly to heaven ...

A smile of irritation flickered about Shunsuke's mouth as he

read. Then he muttered, "I don't get it at all. He missed the boat
completely. It's a fabricated, flowery eulogy; that's all it is. Mter
twenty years, he turns out tripe like this."
He turned to look out of the broad window of the second-class
coach. The sea was in view, and a fishing boat, its sail spread,
was heading for the open water. The white canvas, its womb not
quite filled with wind, clung to the mast, languidly flirted with it.
At that instant a sliver of light glinted from the base of the mast;
then the train sliced into a grove of red pines, their trunks bright
in the morning sun of summer; then it entered a tunnel.
Well, Shunsuke thought, I wouldn't be surprised if that
glimmer of light came from a mirror. There must be a fisher­
woman aboard that boat who's in the middle of making herself

[ 6 ]
 The Beginning

pretty. In her sunburnt hand, stronger than a man's, she is prob­

ably sending off sidelong signals toward the passengers of each
passing train, in order to retail her secrets. In Shunsuke's poetic
fancy the face of the fisherwoman changed to that of Yasuko.
The aging writer shook his thin, sweaty frame.

All the fierce hatreds, the jealousies, the enmities, the pas­
sions of humankind he does not seem to be concerned with.
Lies I Lies I Lies I
The process in which a writer is compelled to counterfeit his
true feelings is exactly the opposite of that in which the man of
society is compelled to counterfeit his. The artist disguises in
order to reveal; the man of society disguises in order to con­
ceal.
Another result of Shunsuke's reticence was the attack on his
lack of intellectuality by the people who sought to bring about
the unity of the arts and the social sciences. It stood to reason
that he would have no part of the silly display of philosophy in
the epilogue of a work, much like a burlesque girl pulling up her
skirt and exposing her thighs. Just the same, there was some­
thing in the thinking of Shunsuke, in his attitude toward art and
life, that persistently invited sterility.
What we call thought is not born before the fact but after the
fact. It enters as the defense attorney of an action born of acci­
dent and impulse. As defense attorney it gives meaning and
theory to that action; necessity is substituted for chance, will for
impulse. Thinking cannot heal the wounds of a blind man who
has walked into a lamppost, but it can show that the lamppost
and not the blindness was at fault. To one action after another
theory after the fact is applied until theory becomes the system.
The agent of actions becomes nothing more than the probabili­
ties within all actions. That's what threw the scrap of paper in
the street. It thought and threw the scrap of paper in the street.
In this way he who possesses the power of thinking, seeking to
extend that power beyond all limits, becomes himself the pris­
oner of thought.
Shunsuke drew a sharp line between thought and foolishness.
As a result of this he blamed his foolishness without extenuation.
The ghost of his foolishness, rigidly excluded from his works,

[ 7 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

nightly stalked his rest. Surely his three disastrous marriages

might be glimpsed once or more in his works. In his youth that
fellow Shunsuke's life had been a succession of debacles, a chain
of miscalculations and failures.
He knew nothing of hatreds? A lie. Nothing of jealousy? A
lie.
In contrast to the serene resignation that floated within his
works, the life of Shunsuke was filled with hatred, with jealousy.
After the breakdown of his third marriage, after the clumsy
resolutions of ten or so love affairs-the fact that this old artist,
beset by an ineradicable detestation of womankind, had never
once decked out his works with the blossom of that detestation
was an achievement of immeasurable self-restraint, of immea­
surable arrogance.
The women who entered the pages of his numerous books
appeared to women as well as men among his readers as annoy­
ingly pure. One curious scholar of comparative literature placed
his heroines alongside the ethereal heroines of Edgar Allan Poe,
namely, Ugeia, Berenice, Morella, and the Marquesa Aphrodite
-more marble than flesh. Their easily wearying passions were
like the transient light of the afternoon sun reflecting here and
there off carved features. Shunsuke was afraid to endow his
heroines with deep feeling.
One good-humored critic pointed to Shunsuke and said that
his position of eternal feminist was absolutely charming.
His first wife had been a thief. In their two years of married
life she cleverly stole and sold a winter overcoat, three pairs of
shoes, material for two spring suits, and a Zeiss camera-just on
a whim. When she went out, her neckband and her sash were
studded with jewels. Shunsuke was, after all, a rich man.
His second wife had been mad. Obsessed by the notion that
her husband would kill her in her sleep, she grew so weak from
lack of rest that she became hysterical. One day Shunsuke re­
turned home and was greeted by a strange odor. His ,vife stood
at the door, barring the way, refusing to allow her husband to
enter.
"Let me in," he said. "What's that strange smell?"
"No, you can't come in," she said. ''I'm doing something very
exciting."
"\Vhat?"

[ 8 ]
 The Beginning

"You're always leaving me and going off somewhere, so I

snatched the kimono off the back of your mistress, and I'm burn­
ing it. My, it feels good!"
He pushed his way in , and saw pieces of charcoal smoldering
all over the Persian rug. His wife walked back to the stove and,
daintily holding back her long sleeve, in perfect composure,
scooped out the burning charcoal and sprinkled it on the rug. In
dismay, Shunsuke restrained her. With terrible strength, his wife
struggled to free herself. Like a captive bird beating its wings to
the full extent of its power, she resisted. Her whole body, sinew
and flesh, had gone rigid.
His third wife had been with him until her death. This woman
of great sexual need gave Shunsuke a taste of every v ariety of
husbandly agony. He clearly remembered the first morning of
that agony.
Shunsuke's work always had to wait until after the act, but its
pace had picked up enormously. About nine o'clock at night he
and his wife would go to bed. Mter a while he would leave her
and go up to his study on the second floor, work there until three
or four in the morning, and then go to sleep again on the little
bed in the study. He kept to this routine rigidly. From the previ­
ous night until about ten in the morning he never saw his wife.
L ate one summer night he felt a strange impulse to shock his
wife out of her slumber. His strong desire to go on with his
work, however, led him to resist the impulse and the mischief it
entailed. Until five o'clock that morning, in fact, as if to punish
himself, he worked without letup.
He had lost all desire to sleep. Surely his wife was still sleep­
ing . . . Noiselessly he crept down the stairs. The bedroom door
was open. His wife was nowhere to be seen.
In that instant Shunsuke was struck with the feeling that this
was what usually went on. That must be why I've been keeping
myself to this schedule, he thought to himself. "I must have
known it; I must have feared it."
He soon got himself under control. His wife must have thrown
her black velvet robe over her nightgown, as usual, and gone to
the bathroom. He waited. She didn't return.
Shunsuke walked uneasily down the hall toward the down­
stairs lavatory. Under the kitchen window, at the kitchen table,
the black-robed form of his wife quietly rested, propped forward

[ !) ]
 FORBIDDEN C O L O R S

on its arms. I t was not yet dawn. H e could not tell whether the
dim figure was sitting or kneeling. Shunsuke hid behind the thick
damask curtains that led to the hall.
As he did so he heard the squeal of the wooden gate twenty­
five or thirty feet from the kitchen door. He heard a low, musical
whistle. It was time for the milk delivery.
From the yards nearby the dogs barked, one after another.
The milkman wore sneakers. Over the stone walk wet with the
night's rain he bounded joyously, his body flushed from labor,
his bare arms extending from his blue polo shirt and brushing
the wet leaves of the eight-finger shrubs, the cold wet stones
passing behind him. The clear note of his whistle bespoke the
freshness of his young lips in the morning.
She stood up and opened the kitchen door. In the gray night a
black human shape could be seen. His teeth, white as he smiled,
and his blue polo shirt showed faintly. The morning wind carne
in and shook the tassels of the curtain.
"Thank you," said Shunsuke's wife.
She took two bottles of milk. The sound of the bottles clinking
together and the silvery clink of her ring against the glass rever­
berated softly.
"You'll give me something for it, ma'am, won't you?" the
young man said, insolently bantering.
"Not today," she said.
"How about tomorrow noon?"
"No, that's out, too."
"But only once in ten days! Have you found somebody else?"
"Don't talk so loudl"
"Day after tomorrow?"
"Day after tomorrow . .. ?"
Shunsuke's wife pronounced that "Day after tomorrow" as if
she were coyly placing a piece of fragile china back on the shelf.
"In the evening, though, my husband is going to a meeting. It
will be okay to come then."
"Five o'clock?"
"Five o'clock."
His wife opened the door, which had been shut. The young
man made no move to leave. He struck the doorpost two or
three times, softly.
"How about now?"

[ I0 )
 The Beginning

"What are you saying? My lord and master is upstairs. I hate

people who don't have any sense."
"Okay. Just a kiss."
"Not here. If somebody sees us we've had it."
"Just a kiss."
"You're a nuisance. Just a kiss."
The young man closed the door behind him and stood in the
entranceway to the kitchen. She stepped down to him in her
rabbit-fur bedroom slippers.
The two of them stood together, like a rose beside a pole. A
wavelike undulation passed from time to time from her back to
her hips down her black velvet gown. His hand groped out and
loosened her belt. Shunsuke's wife shook her head, resisting.
They scuffled silently. Until this moment her back had been
toward Shunsuke. Now it was the man's back. Her open gown
was toward him. She had nothing on underneath. The young
man knelt down in the narrow entryway.
Shunsuke had never seen anything so white as the naked body
of his wife standing there in the gray dawn. It was not standing,
that white embodiment; it was floating. Like the hand of a blind
man, her hand moved, feeling for the hair of the kneeling young
man.
What could the eyes of his wife be looking at now, first gleam­
ing, then clouding, then opening wide, then staring half-closed?
At the enameled pans on the shelves? At the cupboard doors? At
the view of the trees in the dawn through the window? At the
glint of the sun bouncing off the doorpost? The intimate silence
of that kitchen, like that of a sleeping barracks before the activ­
ity of the day, could surely conceive nothing within the eyes of
his wife. Yet something was clear in those eyes, and it was
somewhere in this curtain. And as if they were conscious of it,
they never once met the eyes of Shunsuke.
They are eyes that have been instructed from childhood never
to look at one's husband-Shunsuke shuddered as this thought
came over him. At the same time the wish to propel himself
suddenly out there vanished. He was unable to utter a word and,
what was more, knew no way to get revenge.
Mter a time the young man slid open the door and departed.
The garden was turning white. Silently Shunsuke retreated to
the second floor.

[ II ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

This writer, gentleman beyond measure, had only one way of

getting rid of the resentments his life brought him. It was his
French diary, in which on certain days he would write pages.
(He had never been abroad, but he had mastered French. Three
works of Huysmans-La Cathedrale, La-bas, and En Route l-as
well as Rodenbach's Bruges-la-morte he had transmuted into
splendid Japanese just to get his hand going.) Were this journal
made public after his death, there would probably be much
discussion as to whether it were more valuable than his works
per se. All the important elements that his works were deficient
in flourished in the pages of this diary, but transferring them
verbatim into those works ran counter to the wishes of Shunsuke,
who hated the naked truth. He held firmly to the belief that any
part of one's talent, be it what it may, which revealed itself
spontaneously was a fraud. Not only that, at the root of the lack
of objectivity in his works lay his creative attitude, his exces­
sively stubborn adherence to subjectivity. He hated the naked
truth to excess and made his works sculptures of the raw flesh of
its naked body.
As soon as he got back to his study he plunged into his diary.
into the painful description of that assignation in the dawn. It
was written in the wildest hand, almost as if he intended that he
himself would not be able to read it when he came back to it a
second time. As with the diaries of decades past piled on his
shelf, the pages of this diary too were filled with curses directed
against women. If the curses had no effect, it was in the last
analysis because the one doing the cursing was not a woman but
a man.
It is easier to quote fragments, such as the following one, from
this memorandum filled more with jottings and aphorisms than
entries in diary form. Here is the record of one day of his youth:

Women can bring nothing into the world but children. Men
can father all kinds of things besides children. Creation, re­
production, and propagation are all male capabilities. Fem­
inine pregnancy is but a part of child rearing. This is an old
truth. [Incidentally Shunsuke had no children. It was half a
matter of principle.]
Woman's jealousy is simply jealousy of creativity. A woman
who bears a son and brings him up tastes the honeyed joy of
revenge against creativity. When she stands in the way of
creation she feels she has something to live for. The craving

[ 12 ]
 The Beginning

for luxury and spending is a destructive craving. Everywhere

you look, feminine instincts win out. Originally capitalism
was a male theory, a reproductive theory. Then feminine
thinking ate away at it. Capitalism changed into a theory of
extravagance. Thanks to this Helen, war finally came into
being. In the far distant future, communism too will be
destroyed by woman.
Woman survives everywhere and rules like the night. Her
nature is on the highest pinnacle of baseness. She drags all
values down into the slough of sentiment. She is entirely in­
capable of comprehending doctrine: "-istic," she can under­
stand; "-ism," she cannot fathom. Lacking in originality she
can't even comprehend the atmosphere. All she can figure out
is the smell. She smells as a pig does. Perfume is a masculine
invention designed to improve woman's sense of smell.
Thanks to it, man escapes being sniffed out by woman.
Woman's sexual charm, her coquettish instincts, all the
powers of her sexual attraction, prove that woman is a useless
creature. Something useful would have no need of coquetries.
What a waste it is that man insists on being attracted by
woman l What disgrace it brings down upon man's spiritual
powers! Woman has no soul; she can only feel. What is called
majestic feeling is the most laughable of paradoxes, a self­
made tapeworm. The majesty of motherhood that once in a
while develops and shocks people has in truth no relation to
spirit. It is no more than a physiological phenomenon, essen­
tially no different from the self-sacrificing mother love seen
in animals. In short, spirit must be viewed as the special
characteristic that differentiates man from the animals. It is
the only essential difference.

Essential difference (it might be better to call it the peculiarly

human capability of fictional creation) ... it might be discov­
ered upon the features in the picture of the twenty-five-year-old
Shunsuke that was inserted in the diary. They were ugly fea­
tures, yet there was in their aspect a certain man-made ugliness,
the ugliness of a man who strove day by day to believe himself
ugly.
In that year's diary, carefully written in French, might be
found various random, outrageous doodles. There were two or
three rude sketches of the vagina, roughly scratched over with a
canceling X. He was cursing the vagina.
Shunsuke did not marry a thief and a madwoman because no
other brides were available. There were enough "spiritual
women" who could find this promising young man interesting.

[ IJ J
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O RS

But the creature that was the "spiritual woman" was a monster
and not really a woman. The only women who could be unfaith­
ful to Shunsuke were the ones who refused to understand his
lone strong point, his one beautiful feature, his soul. These in­
deed were the original, the true, the genuine women. Shunsuke
could only love these beautiful Messalinas, sure of their beauty,
who did not require spirit to round out their charms.
The lovely face of his third wife, three years dead, floated into
Shunsuke's mind. At fifty, she and her lover not half her age had
committed suicide. Shunsuke knew why she had taken her life.
She feared the prospect of an ugly old age spent in his com­
pany.
Their dead bodies were thrown up together on Inubo Point,
deposited by the waves high on the rocks. It was no easy task t o
get them off. Fishermen fastened ropes to them an d passed them
from rock to rock in the white spume thrown up by the booming
surf.
Nor was it easy to separate their corpses. They had melted
together like wet tissue paper, their skin seemingly shared in
common. The remains of Shunsuke's wife, forcibly pried loose,
were sent to Tokyo for cremation, according to her husband's
wishes.
It was a magnificent funeral; the ceremony was over, and the
time had come to start the procession. The aged husband took
his leave of the deceased, who had been carried into another
room. No one else entered, as he instructed. Above her tremen­
dously swollen face, buried with lilies and pinks, the roots of her
hair seemed to glisten in blue striations out of a semitransparent
hairline. Without apprehension Shunsuke stared at this ugliest
of all faces. Then he sensed the malice in that face. It could
cause her husband no more pain; her face no longer had to be
beautiful. Was not this the reason it was ugly?
He took his treasured No mask representing young woman­
hood and placed it over her face. Harder and harder he pressed
against it, so that the face of the drowned woman buckled under
the mask like so much ripe fruit. (No one would know what
Shunsuke had done; in an hour or so all traces of it would be
consumed in flame.)
In pain and indignation, Shunsuke went through the period of
mourning. When he recalled that dawning day that marked the
beginning of his pain, his response was so fresh that he found it

[ I 4 ]
 The Beginning

hard to believe his wife was not still alive. He had had more
rivals than he had fingers, and their youthful arrogance, their
hateful good looks....
Shunsuke had taken a stick to one of them, and his wife had
threatened to leave him.So he apologized to his wife and bought
the boy a suit of clothes. Later the fellow was killed fighting in
North China. Drunk with joy, Shunsuke wrote a long passage in
his diary; then, like one possessed, he went for a walk down the
street.
It was jammed with soldiers departing for the front, with all
their well-wishers. He joined a crowd of people around a soldier
saying good-bye to a lovely girl, obviously his fiancee. Somehow
Shunsuke found himself joyfully waving a paper flag. A cam­
eraman happened to be passing at the moment and caught him,
so Shunsuke's picture appeared prominently in the newspapers,
waving the flag. Who could have known? Here was this eccen­
tric author waving a flag, sending off a soldier to die on the
battlefield-the very battlefield on which had recently died the
detested young soldier whose death he was really celebrating!

These were the thoughts passing through the mind of

Shunsuke Hinoki during the hour-and-a-half bus trip that was
the last leg of his journey to the shore where Yasuko was.
Then the war ended, he thought. She committed suicide the
second year afterward. The newspapers were polite; they called
it a heart attack. Only a small number of my friends knew the
real facts.
Mter my mourning period was over, I fell in love with the
wife of a former count. My life of ten-plus love affairs was
fulfilled, it seemed, with this love. At a critical moment, her
husband appeared demanding 30o,ooo yen. The former count
had a sideline, with his wife as a partner: blackmail.
The memory made him laugh. The blackmail episode was
funny, though the humor made him uneasy.
I wonder whether I am still capable of hating women as
fiercely as when I was young.
He thought of Yasuko, this nineteen-year-old girl who had
come to see him several times since they met in Hakone in May.
The old writer's breast heaved.

[ lJ ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

In the middle o f May, when Shunsuke was working a t Na.ka­

gora, a girl staying in the same hotel asked, through the maid,
for his autograph. He met the girl eventually near the garden.
She was on her way to meet him, one of his works under her
arm. It was a lovely evening; he had been out for a walk and
met her on the way back, as he climbed the stone steps.
"Is it you?" Shunsuke asked.
"Yes. My last name is Segawa," she said. "How do you do?"
She was wearing a pink dress, the kind a child would wear.
Her arms and legs were long and graceful, perhaps too long. The
skin of her thighs was tight, like that of a fresh-water fish. It was
white skin, with gamboge depths, gleaming out from under the
hem of her short skirt. Shunsuke guessed she was seventeen or
eighteen. From the expression around her eyes, though, one
would guess her to be twenty or twenty-one. She was wearing
geta, revealing her trim heels-small, modest, firm, birdlike.
"'Where is your room?"
"Way back there."
"That's why I haven't seen you. Are you alone?"
"Yes-today, that is."
She was convalescing from a bout with pneumonia. It pleased
Shunsuke that she was a girl who was only able to read
novels "for the story." Her companion, an elderly woman, had
gone back to Tokyo for a day or two on business. He could have
gone back to his room with Yasuko, autographed her book, and
returned it to her at once, but he wanted to arrange to meet for
the book the following day, so they sat down on one of the ugly
benches by the garden. There they talked about this and that­
there really was no topic that could speed intimacy between this
shy old man and this proper young woman. "'When did you
come?" "What's your family like?" "Do you feel better now?"
Things like that Shunsuke asked, and she answered with a quiet
smile.
Thus it was surprising how soon the garden seemed to become
wrapped in twilight. In front of them, the soft shapes of Myojo
Peak and Tateyarna to the right of it grew darker and quietly
sidled their way into the thoughts of those watching them. Be­
tween the two mountains sank the Odawara Sea. The flashing of
the lighthouse glimmered like the evening star somewhere in the
area where the twilight sky and the narrow seascape dimly
merged. The maid carne to announce dinner, and they parted.

[ 16 ]
 The Beginning

The next day, Yasuko and her elderly companion came to

Shunsuke's room, bringing with them some sweets from Tokyo.
He brought out the two volumes, which had already been
signed. The old woman did all the talking, affording Yasuko and
Shunsuke the luxury of silence. Mter Yasuko and the woman
left, Shunsuke took it into his head to take a long walk. He
panted as he scrambled irritably up the bill.
"It doesn't matter bow far; I can do it. I'm still not tired. See
how I can walk," he told himself.
Finally he came to a grassy spot shaded by a tree. There he
stretched out, as if unconscious. Suddenly a huge pheasant
launched out of a bush at one side. Shunsuke started. Then be
felt his heart leaping with a restless joy born of overexertion.
It's been a long time since I bad this feeling. How many
years? Shunsuk6 thought to himself.
He chose to forget that "this feeling" was for the most part of
his own making, that in order to create "this feeling" be had
designedly taken this unusually vigorous hike. Surely such for­
getfulness, such willfulness, could be attributed to his advanced
age.

The bus route from the nearest railroad station to the town
where Yasuko was staying passed close to the sea at several
points. From the top of the cliffs one got a bird's-eye view of the
flashing summer sea. A transparent and therefore barely visible
incandescent glow lit up the surface of the sea.
It was still long before noon. The two or three passengers in
the bus were local people, but they spread out side dishes
wrapped in bamboo sheaths and started eating their balled rice.
Shunsuke barely knew what it was like to be conscious that his
stomach was empty. When he was thinking, he would eat and
then forget he had eaten, then wonder why his stomach was full.
His viscera as well as his mind were oblivious to the vicissitudes
of daily life.
The K-- Park stop was two stations away from the tenninal
point, K-- Town Hall. Nobody got off there. The bus route
sliced through the center of this great park, which covered about
a thousand hectares between the mountains and the sea. One
side had the mountains as its focal point; the other side had the

[ 17 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

sea. Through the thick shrubbery, noisy in the wind, Shunsuke

caught glimpses of the deserted, silent playground, and of the
sea, its blue enamel expanse broken here and there in the dis­
tance, and of sundry park swings that threw motionless shadows
on the shining sand. For no reason that he could fathom, that
great park, silent in the midsummer morning, intrigued him.
The bus stopped at a corner of the jumbled little town.
Around the town hall there were no signs of life. Through the
open windows the white tops of the desks, on which nothing was
piled, threw out gleams of light. The welcoming party from the
hotel bowed.
Shunsuke gave them his baggage and slowly climbed the stone
staircase they had pointed out beside the shrine. Thanks to the
wind off the sea, the heat was barely noticeable. The voices of
the cicadas came down from overhead languidly-warm sounds
wrapped in wool. Halfway up the stairs, Shunsuke took off his
hat and rested awhile. Below him in the little harbor a little
green steamer rested; it let off steam noisily, as if prompted.
Then it stopped. As it did so, the all-too-simple curve of the still
harbor seemed all at once filled with a doleful sound as of count­
less wings, like the buzzing of a persistent fly; no matter how
often one chases it, it will not be driven off.
"What a fine view!"
Shunsuke said that as if to get the idea out of his mind. It was
certainly not a fine view.
"The view from the hotel is better, sir."
"Is that so?"
The old author's dignity stemmed from the fact that he was
too lazy to take the trouble to indulge in teasing and ridicule. It
wearied him to break his composure even for a moment.
They had given him the finest room in the hotel, where he
asked the maid the questions he had prepared on the way and
found so difficult to phrase with requisite casualness. (To make
matters worse, he feared he had lost all casualness.)
"Has a young lady named Segawa checked in?"
"Yes. She's here."
His heart was pounding, so he pronounced the next question
slowly.
"Does she have someone with her?"
"Yes; they arrived four or five days ago. In the Chrysanthe­
mum Room."

[ t8 ]
 The Beginning

"Maybe she's here now? I'm a friend of her father's."

"She just went out to K-- Park."
"Did she go alone?"
"No, she is not alone."
The maid did not say, "They went with her." Under the cir­
cumstances, Shunsuke was filled with dismay. He did not know
how to ask with proper indifference how many friends there
were and whether male or female.
If her friends were male, what if there was only one of them?
Wasn't it strange that this very natural question had never even
entered his head until now? Foolishness preserves its own un­
deviating equilibrium, does it not? Until it gets its way it ad­
vances, suppressing every proper intelligent consideration.
He felt his attendance was more commanded than invited as
he was subjected to a lavish welcome by the hotel. Throughout
his bath and his meal, until the business was over, he was given
no rest. When he was finally left alone he was overcome by
excitement and moved about restlessly. His anxiety impelled him
to do something a gentleman should not do. He quietly entered
the Chrysanthemum Room.
The suite was in perfect order. He opened the Western-style
clothes closet in the smaller room and saw a man's white trousers
and white poplin shirts. They were hanging next to Yasuko's
Tyrolean applique white linen one-piece suit. He turned his eyes
to the dressing table and saw pomade and a stick of hair wax
beside the powder, cream, and lipstick.
He left the room, returned to his own, and rang the bell.
When the maid came he ordered a car. While he was putting on
his suit, the car arrived. He was driven to K
-- Park.
He told the driver to wait, and entered the gate of the park,
which was deserted, as usual. It bad a new, natural-stone arch.
From it, one could not see the sea. In the wind, the heavy
branches of the trees, covered with blackish green leaves,
soughed like the distant surf.
Shunsuke decided to go to the beach. There, he had been told,
they swam every day. He left the playground. He passed the
corner of the little zoo, in which a badger was huddled, dozing,
the shadow of the cage sharp upon his back. In its grazing area,
at the point where two kaede trees grew close together, a long
black rabbit slept quietly, beyond the heat. Shunsuke descended a
stone staircase covered thickly with grass and saw, on the other

[ 19 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

side o f a vast patch o f shrubbery, the expanse o f the ocean. As

far as his eyes could see, there was only the movement of
branches. The wind slowly made its way toward him. It twisted
nimbly from branch to branch, seeming to approach like an
invisible small animal. The roughest blasts of wind that came at
times were like the frolicking of an invisible large animal. Over
all this the unfailing sunlight reigned; the unfailing buzz of the
cicada prevailed.
What path should he take down to the beach? Far below, he
could see a grove of pines. The grass-covered staircase seemed to
lead down there by a roundabout route. He was bathed in the
sun that forced its way through the trees, dazzled by the fierce
glare off the grass, and he came to realize that his body was
covered with perspiration. The staircase curved. He struggled
his way onto the edge of a narrow corridor of beach at the foot
of the cliff.
There was nobody there. Exhausted, the aging writer seated
himself on a boulder.
Anger it was that had brought him this far. Living as he did,
encompassed by his great reputation, the religious veneration in
which he was held, his multifarious business affairs, his mis­
cellaneous friendships, and all the related unendingly venomous
essentials, he generally required no escape from life. The most
extreme escape for him would be to come closer to it. Within the
amazingly broad sphere of his acquaintanceship, Shunsuke
Hinoki performed like a great actor, through whose skill
thousands of spectators were made to feel that he was close to
each of them alone. An adroit skill it was, seemingly in disre­
gard of all the laws of perspective. Neither their praise nor their
criticism touched him. That was because he was deaf to every­
thing. He was trembling now in anticipation of being hurt,
fiercely desired to be hurt; only in this sense did Shunsuke in his
own inimitable way seek an escape. In short, he sought con­
summation in a climactic reception unto himself of clear, un­
equivocal injury.
Now, however, the unusually close, undulating broad sea
seemed to soothe Shunsuke. As it craftily and nimbly carne in
between the rocks again and again, the sea soaked him , it flowed
into his being, it instantly painted him with its blueness. Then i�
fell away from him again.
Then a ripple appeared out in the middle of the ocean. A

[ 20 ]
 The Beginning

delicate, white splashing like an advancing wave developed. The

ripple advanced rapidly in the direction of this part of the shore.
As it reached the shallows and seemed about to break, suddenly
in the middle of the wave a swimmer stood out. Quickly his
body seemed to erase the wave. Then he stood up. His sturdy
legs kicked the ocean shallows as he walked forward.
It was an amazingly beautiful young man. His body surpassed
the sculptures of ancient Greece. It was like the Apollo molded
in bronze by an artist of the Peloponnesus school. It over­
flowed with gentle beauty and carried such a noble column of a
neck, such gently sloping shoulders, such a softly broad chest,
such elegantly rounded wrists, such a rapidly tapering tightly
filled trunk, such legs, stoutly filled out like a heroic sword. The
youth stopped at the water's edge and twisted his body to in­
spect his left elbow, which seemed to have struck against the
comer of a rock. As he did so, he bent his face and his right arm
in the direction of the injury. The reflections on the waves, re­
treating past his feet, lit up his downtumed profile as if an
expression of joy had suddenly stolen across it. Quick, narrow
eyebrows; deep, sad eyes; rather thick, fresh lips-these made
up the design of his extraordinary profile. The wonderful ridge
of his nose, furthermore, along with his controlled facial expres­
sion, gave to his youthful good looks a certain chaste impression
of wildness, as if he had never known anything but noble
thoughts and starvation. This, together with the dark, controlled
cast of his eyes, his strong white teeth, the languid way in which
he unconsciously moved his wrists, the bearing of his quick
body, brought out in full relief the inner nature of a young,
beautiful wolf. "That's it! Those looks are the beautiful features
of the wolf!"
At the same time there was in the soft roundness of the shoul­
ders, the innocent nudity of the chest, the charm of the lips ...
in these bodily features there was a mysteriously indefinable
sweetness. Walter Pater mentioned, in connection with the
lovely thirteenth-century story "Amis and Arnile," a certain
"sweetness of the early Renaissance." Shunsuke saw signs of a
later and unimaginably mysterious and vast development of that
"early sweetness" in the lines of the body of the youth before
him .
Shunsuke Hinoki hated all the beautiful young men of the
world. Yet beauty struck him dumb whether he liked it or not.

[ 21 ]
 FORBID D EN C O L ORS

Mostly, he had the bad habit of immediately connecting beauty

with happiness; yet what silenced his resenunent here was per­
haps not the perfect beauty of the youth, but what he surmised
to be his complete happiness.
The youth glanced in Shunsuke's direction. Then he uncon­
cernedly stepped out of sight behind a rock. After a time he
appeared again, in white shirt and conservative blue-serge
trousers. Whistling, he started up the same stone steps Shunsuke
had just descended. Shunsuke got up and followed him . The
young man turned once again and glanced at the old man. Per­
haps it was the effect of the summer sun shining across his
eyelashes, but his eyes were quite dark. Shunsuke wondered why
the youth, who had shone so resplendently earlier in his naked­
ness, had now lost his air of happiness, if nothing more.
The youth took another path. It was going to be difficult to
keep up with him. The exhausted old man started down the path
doubting he had the energy to trace the young man's steps much
farther. Then, however, somewhere in the vicinity of a grassy
clearing within the wood, he heard the clear, vigorous sound of
the young man's voice.
"Are you still sleeping? You amaze me. While you were sleep­
ing, I swam way out into the ocean. Corne on, get up, and let's
stroll back."
A girl stood up there under the trees. Shunsuke was shocked at
how close she seemed to be as she stretched her slim arms above
her head. Two or three of the buttons in the back of her blue.
girlish Western dress had come undone. For the first time he was
able to see the youth as he fastened the errant buttons. The girl
brushed from her skirt the pollen and soil she had collected
during that quite indecorous nap on the grass. As she turned her
hand to brush herself off, she showed her profile. It was Yasukol
Spent, Shunsuke slumped on the stairs. He took out a cigarette
and lit it. It was not an uncommon thing for this expert in the art
of jealousy to be filled with a mixture of admiration, jealousy,
and defeat, but this time Shunsuke's heart was involved not with
Yasuko but with that youth whose beauty was such a rarity in
this world.
In that perfect youth were concentered all the dreams of the
ugly writer's young days-dreams he had hidden from the eyes
of men. Not only that, he rebuked himself for them. The spring­
time of intellect, the time when it begins to grow-that was the

[ 22 ]
 The Beginning

poison, he felt, that caused the young man to lose his youth even
as he watched. Shunsuke's youth was spent in the frenzied pur­
suit of youthfulness. What foolishness, indeed !
Youth tortures u s with all kinds o f hopes and despairs , but at
least we do not realize that our pains are the normal agonies of
youth. Shunsuke, however, spent his whole youth realizing it. He
rigidly excluded from his thinking, from his consciousness, from
his theorizing on "Literature and Youth," everything connected
with permanence, universality, common interest, everything
unhappily subtle-in short, romantically immortal. To some ex­
tent, his foolishness lay in facetiously impulsive experimenta­
tion. At that time his one fond hope was that he would be so
fortunate as to be able to see in his own pain the perfect, con­
summate pain of youth. Not only that, he wished to see in his
own joy the consummate joy. In sum, he saw in it a power in­
dispensable to humankind.
This time, being defeated won't bother me a bit, he thought to
himself. He is the pos§essor of all the beauty of youth; he dwells
in the sunshine of human existence. Never will he be polluted by
the poisons of art or things of that sort. He is a man born to love
and be loved by woman . For him, I shall gladly retire from the
field. Not only that, I welcome it. So much of my life has been
spent fighting against beauty; but the time is approaching that
beauty and I should shake h ands in reconciliation. For all I can
tell, Heaven has sent these two people for me to see.
The two lovers approached single file down the narrow path.
Yasuko was the first to see Shunsuke. She and the old man
confronted each other. His eyes showed pain, but his mouth was
smiling. Yasuko grew white and dropped her glance. Still look­
ing at the ground, she asked, "Have you come here to work?"
"Yes. I just got here."
The youth looked at Shunsuke inquiringly. Yasuko introduced
them-"This is my friend Yuichi."
"Minami," he said, supplying his surname.
When he heard Shunsuke's name, the youth did not seem at all
surprised. Shunsuke thought to himself : He's probably heard
about me from Yasuko. That's why he is not surprised. I would
be delighted if he had never so much as looked at my complete
works in three editions and had never heard my name.
The three climbed the stone park staircase in the dead calm,
chatting idly about how deserted the resort seemed. Shunsuke

[ 23 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

felt expansive. He wasn't one easily given to joking like a man of

the world, but he was cheerful enough. The three got into his
hired car and went back to the hotel.
They ate supper a trois. It was Yuichi's idea. Mter the meal
they separated and went to their rooms. Later, Yuichi , tall in his
hotel robe, appeared at the door of Shunsuke's room.
"May I come in? Are you working?" he called through the
door.
"Come in."
"Yasuko was taking a long time in the bath and I got bored,"
he said, by way of excuse. His dark eyes, however, had grown
more sad since the daytime. Shunsuke's artistic instincts told
him that some kind of confession was forthcoming.
For a time they talked about insignificant matters. Then it
became apparent that the youth was impatient to get something
off his mind. At last he said ; "Are you going to stay here for a
while?"
"I expect so."
"I, if I can, would like to leave by the ten o'clock boat this
evening, or by tomorrow morning's bus. In fact, I want to get
away from here tonight sometime."
Surprised, Shunsuke asked, "What about Yasuko?"
"That's what I've come to talk to you about. Can I leave her
with you? I've thought perhaps you would like to marry her."
"I hope you are not being held back by something that is not
true."
"Not at all. I can't stay here another night."
"Why?"
The youth answered in sincere , rather frozen tones ; "Do you
understand? I can't love a woman. Do you know what I mean?
My body can love them, but my interest in them is purely intel­
lectual. I have never wanted a woman since the day I was born.
I have never seen a woman and wanted her. Just the same I
have deluded myself about it, and now I have deceived an inno­
cent girl in the bargain."
A strange light came into Shunsuke's eyes. By nature he was
not sensitive to this problem. His inclinations were quite normal.
He replied, "Then what can you love?"
"I?" The youth's face reddened. "I only love boys."
"Have you told Yasuko about this?" Shunsuke asked.
''No:·

[ 24 ]
 The Beginning

"Then don't tell her. It won't work. There are some things that
are good to tell a woman, and some things not. I don't know
much about your particular problem, but it seems to be some­
thing women wouldn't understand. When a girl appears who
loves you as much as Yasuko seems to, it would seem best to
marry her, since you have to get married sometime. Don't take
marriage as being anything more than a triviality. It's trivial­
that's why they call it sacred."
Shunsuke began to take a fiendish delight in the encounter.
Then he caught the young man's gaze and, out of deference to
the world, decorously whispered : "And these three nights . . .
didn't anything happen?"
"cNo."
"That's fine. That's how women should be taught." Shunsuke's
laugh was loud and clear. None of his friends had ever heard
him laugh like this.
"I can tell you from long experience that it never pays to teach
a woman pleasure. Pleasure is a tragic masculine invention.
Don't take it as anything more than that."
An ecstatic, parental affection floated in Shunsuke's eyes. "You
two will have an ideal married life, I am sure." He didn't say
"happy." As far as Shunsuke was concerned it was splendid that
this marriage seemed to hold in store such complete unhappiness
for the woman. With Yuichi's help he felt he could send a hun­
dred still-virgin women off to nunneries. In this way Shunsuke
for the first time in his life knew real passion.

[ 25 J
 C H A P TE R 2

ill i R R O R C O N T R A C T

"I CAN'T," Yuichi said, hopelessly. What man content with the
advice he had been given would make so shamefaced a con­
fession to a perfect stranger? The suggestion that he get married
was pure cruelty, the young man felt.
Now that he had told all, he felt a certain sense of regre t ; the
mad impulse to confess had vanished. The pain of those three
nights during which nothing happened had almost torn him to
pieces.
Yasuko would never make the first advances. If she had he
would have told her everything. Yet there in the darkness filled
with the sound of waves, inside the pale green mosquito netting
shaken from time to time by the win d , the recumbent form of
the girl at his side staring at the ceiling, holding back the sound
of her breathing, was enough to cut his heart to pieces in a way
he had never known.
The window thrown open, the starlit sky, the shrill whistle of
the steamboat . . . for a long time Yasuko and Yuichi lay awake,
not daring to stir. They did not speak. They did not move. It was
as if they feared that a movement of so much as an inch would
provoke an entirely new situation. To tell the truth , they were
both wearied with waiting for the same action, the same situa­
tion-in short, the same thing; but Yuichi's embarrassment was
perhaps a hundred times more fierce than the shyness under
which Yasuko quivered. He asked only to die.
Her coal-black eyes wide open, hand to her breast, her body
motionless and faintly perspiring, the horizontal figure of the girl
beside him was death to Yuichi. If she moved one inch in his

[ 26 J
 Mirror Contract

direction, that itself would be death. He hated himself for hav­

ing been ignominiously enticed to this point by Yasuko.
Now I can die, he thought to himself over and over. Soon, I'll
get up, rush down the stone staircase, and throw myself off the
cliff overlooking the sea.
When he thought of death, in that instant everything seemed
possible. He was drunk with possibility, filled with cheer. He
pretended a yawn and said aloud, "My, I'm sleepy." He turned
his back to Yasuko, curled up, and feigned sleep. After a time, he
heard Yasuko emit a slight, delicate cough and knew she was not
asleep.
Then he got up courage to inquire, "Can't you sleep?"
"Yes, I c an," she answered, with a low voice like the sound of
flowing water. With that, the two set about feigning sleep, hop­
ing to fool one another; doing so, they fooled themselves into
falling asleep. He dreamed that God had turned over to the
angels his plea that he be killed. It was such a happy dream that
he burst out crying. Of course, the tears and sobs were not real.
Then Yuichi realized that he was still ruled by vanity and he felt
better.
For the eight years or so since puberty Yuichi had set himself
against sexual desire, which he detested. He kept his body pure.
He involved himself in mathematics and sports-geometry and
calculus, high jumping and swimming. He did not realize partic­
ularly that this option of his was a Greek option ; mathematics
somehow kept his head clear, and athletic competition kept his
energies in tune.
Nevertheless, once when he was in the locker room and a
lowerclassman came in and took off his sweaty shirt, the odor of
young body distressed him . He ran outside and threw himself
down on the darkening field and pressed his face into the firm
summer grass. There he waited for desire to pass. The dry sound
of bat on ball where baseball practice was still going on echoed
off the colorless evening sky and came to him from the ground.
Yuichi felt something s trike his bare shoulder. It was a towel.
The white, rough, thorny threads bit into his flesh.
"What are you doing? You'll catch cold."
Yuichi lifted his head. It was the same lowerclassman, now in
his school clothes, standing there smiling out from under the
visor of his cap.
Yuichi stood up, snapping out a "Thank you." With the towel

[ 27 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

flung over his shoulder, he returned to the locker room, con­

scious of the eyes of the lowerclassrnan following him. He did
not, however, turn around. He had recognized that the boy
loved him; consequently, by all the logic of purity, he had de­
cided that he could not love the boy.
If I, who, though I cannot love women wish only to love
women, loved the boy-after all a man-would he not become
transformed into some unspeakably ugly, woman-like creature?
Love brings about all kinds of unwished for changes in the one
who is loved, does it not?
In these confessions of Yuichi a desire that was not yet real
carne out of his phrases to nibble away at what was real. Would
he and reality someday meet? In the place where he and reality
might come together, not only would these harbingers of his
desire already in existence eat away at reality, reality itself
would eternally bring forth fictional forms dictated by his desire.
He would never find what he wanted. Everywhere he went he
would meet only his desire. Even in this abortive confession of
those three nights of pain, Shunsuke could, as it were, hear the
gears of this youth's desire turning.
Was not this, however, the epitome of art, the very model of
the reality of artistic creation? In order for Yuichi's desire to
come into reality, either his desire or his concept of what was
real must perish. In this world it is believed art and reality live
quietly side by side ; but art must dare to break the laws of
reality. Why? In order that it alone may exist.
It is a shame, but the Complete Works of Shunsuke Hinoki,
from their first lines, renounced war against reality. As a result
his works were not real. His passions simply brushed against
reality and, repelled by its ugliness, shut themselves up in his
works. Thus his incessant foolishness moved to and fro between
his passions and reality like a dishonest courier. His style, peer­
lessly ornate in its decorativeness, was, after all, no more than a
design for reality ; it was no more than a curious, worm-eaten
figure of speech in which reality had consumed passion. With all
frankness one may say in conclusion that his art, his thrice-pub­
lished complete works, did not exist. Why? Because not once did
they break the laws of reality.
This old writer had already lost all the muscles necessary for
creation; he had tired of the labors of careful craftsmanship.
Now, left orily with the task of interpreting esthetically his past

[ 28 J
 Mirror Contract

productions, what an irony it was that a youth like Yuichi should

appear before him at this time I
Yuichi had all the gifts of youth the old writer lacked, but at
the same time he had that supreme good fortune the artist had
always hypothesized as the object of his heart's desire. In short,
he had never loved a woman. This prefiguration of a paradoxical
ideal : in the life of Shunsuke the desirable qualifications of
youth without the awful chain of tragedies caused by love and
woman; an existence somehow merged in the mind of Shunsuke
with the inescapable conviction that he had been unlucky ; an
existence in which the blood of the dreams of his youth mixed
with the disappointment of his old age. This was Yuichi l If
Shunsuke had been like Yuichi in his youth, what joy there
would have been in his love of women. And if like Yuichi he had
not loved a woman-suppose, better yet, he had come to live
without women-what a happy life his would have been ! In this
way Yuichi became transformed into Shunsuke's idea, his work
of art.
All style, it is said, ages beginning with the adjectives. In
short, adjectives are flesh. They are youth. Yuichi is an adjective;
that's what, Shunsuke went so far as to think.
With a thin smile playing on his lips as if he were a detective
in the middle of an investigation, he propped his elbows on the
table, raised one knee under his bathrobe, and listened to
Yuichi's confession. When i t was over he insensitively said
again : "Fine. Get married !"
"But how can someone get married if he doesn't want to?"
''I'm not joking. Men marry logs; they can even marry ice
boxes. Marriage is man's own invention. It is something he can
do ; desire isn't necessary. At least in the past one hundred years,
mankind has forgotten how to act with passion. Just make be­
lieve she's a bundle of sticks, a cushion, a side of beef hanging
from a beam in the butcher shop. You'll surely be able to conjure
up a counterfeit passion to excite her and make her happy.
Nevertheless, as I told you before, to teach a woman pleasure is
to incur a hundred liabilities and not one asset. The only thing to
be careful about is never to acknowledge at any time that she
has a soul. Even the dregs of a soul are out of the question
here.
"All right? Never think of her as anything but inanimate mat­
ter. From my long and painful experience, let me tell you, as you

[ 29 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

take your wrist watch off when you take your bath, get rid of
your soul when you come near a woman. If you don't it will soon
become so rusty you won't be able to use it. I didn't, and I lost
countless watches. I was driven to making the manufacturing of
watches my life's work. I've collected twenty rusty watches and
have just brought them out under the title Collected Works.
Have you read them?"
"No, not yet." The youth's face grew red. "But what you are
saying makes sense, sir. I'm thinking it all over. About why I
h ave never once desired a woman. Whenever I have thought I
might be counterfeiting this spiritual love of mine, I have leaned
toward believing that spirit itself is counterfeit. Even now it's
always on my mind. Why am I not like everybody else? Why do
none of my friends separate the flesh and the spirit the way I
do?"
"Everybody's the same. People are all the same." Shunsuke
raised his voice : "But it's the prerogative of youth to think it's
not so."
"Just the same, I'm the only one who's different."
"All right. I'm catching hold of your conviction and becoming
young again," said the old man slyly.
As far as Yuichi was concerned, he was puzzled by the fact
that Shunsuke was interested in, in fact envious of, his secret
tendencies, the tendencies that had tortured him with their ugli­
ness. However, Yuichi was exhilarated by a sense of self-betrayal
after this first confession of his life, this turning over to another
of all his secrets. He felt the joy of one who, driven by a hated
master to sell seedlings, happens to meet a customer he likes and
betrays his master by selling all the seedlings he has at a bargain
price.
Briefly he explained his relationship with Yasuko.
Yuichi's father had been an old friend of Yasuko's father. He
h ad studied engineering, had gone to work as a technician, had
become a director, finally the head of a subsidiary of Kikui
Zaibatsu, and had then died. That was in the summer of 1944.
Yasuko's father had graduated from a business course and
gone to work for a well-known department store, where he was
now an executive. Thanks to an agreement made by the fathers,
Yuichi and Yasuko were betrothed at the beginning of this year,
when he became twenty-two.
Yuichi's coldness filled Yasuko with yearning. Her periodic

[ 30 ]
 Mirror Contract

visits to Shunsuke's home were made at times when she had

failed to induce the youth to respond to her advances . Finally,
this summer, she got him to go with her on this trip to K-.
Yasuko suspected he was interested in someone else and
suffered as any girl her age might. There was something
ominous about such a suspicion harbored against a fiance, but
the fact was Yuichi loved no one else.
He was now commuting to a certain private college. He lived
with his mother, invalided with chronic nephritis, and their
maidservant in a once-sound household now bankrupt in which
his shy filial affection was a source of tonnent to his parent.
Although there were plenty of girls besides his fiancee who, she
knew, were attracted to this handsome young man, his mother
believed that his failure to commit even one indiscretion was
based on financial concern and devotion to her in her illness.
"I never planned to m ake you into such a pennypincher," she
said candidly. "If your father were living, how he would grieve
about i t ! From the time your father was in college he ran after
women constantly. Thanks to that, when he matured he settled
down and with my help lived peacefully.
"You are so sober in your youth that I worry about the plight
of Yasuko in her mature years. I never expected that of you, who
inherited your father's face, so attractive to women. The only
gift your mother wants to see is a grandchild someday soon, and
if you don't like Yasuko we11 break that engagement in a hurry
and even let you pick out someone you like and bring her home.
Providing you don't make a fool of yourself, I don't mind if you
play around with ten or twenty girls before you decide.
"The only problem is that your mother doesn't know how long
she11 last with this illne ss, so let's have a wedding soon, can't
we? A m an needs to look his best, you know, and if you need
some money, we're poor, but at least we eat. I will give you
double your allowance this month , but don't spend it on books."
He had used the money for dance lessons. He had become a
good dancer needlessly. Yet his dancing, which was artistic in
comparison with the modern utilitarian dance-nothing but
calisthenics for the development of lust-took on the loneliness
of a smooth machine in operation. His figure, emotions held
quietly in check, made observers feel that within his beauty his
energies were constantly being crushed to death. He entered a
dance contest and took third place.

[ Jl ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

The third prize was two thousand yen. He decided to deposit

it in his mother's bank account. When he looked at the bank­
book, however, he discovered that a terrible error must have
been made in the computation of the balance, which he had
been told by his mother amounted to 70o,ooo yen.
Since the time when deposits of albumin in her urine had
forced her periodically to take to her bed, his mother had turned
the responsibilities of the bankbook over to their maid, kind old
Kiyo. Whenever his mother asked her for the balance, this faith­
ful spinster would bring out her abacus, deliberately total up the
two columns in the book, and announce the result. Somehow,
since they had been given a new bankbook, their balance had
remained at 70o,ooo yen no matter how much they withdrew.
Yuichi checked further and found that it was now down to 350,­
ooo.
Securities were bringing them in about 2o,ooo yen a month,
but they were having a depression, and this income could not be
depended on. Living costs, his school expenses, his mother's doc­
tor bills and hospital bills were quickly making it necessary to
sell their home.
This discovery, however, oddly enough delighted Yuichi. The
marriage he had felt he must go through with no matter what
could now be evaded, if it became necessary to move to a house
big enough for only three. He decided to take over the manage­
ment of their finances.
It grieved Yuichi's mother to see her son stick his nose into the
household account book as if he enjoyed it; besides, as he said
lightly, it was a practical application of his schoolwork in eco­
nomics. In truth, it appeared to her that his present activity was
somehow brought on by her earlier frank discussion with him,
and fearing that he was taking her words to mean something she
had not wished to suggest, she said to him once, apparently for
no good reason, "It seems to me that there's something abnormal
about a student's developing an interest in the household account
book."
Yuichi grimaced fiercely. His mother was content that her
words of vexation had roused her son and evoked a reaction,
but she did not know which of her words had cut him so. Anger,
however, had set Yuichi free from his usual sense of decorum.
He felt that the time had come to blast some of the idle romantic
fancies his mother cherished on his behalf. They were fancies

[ 32 J
 Mirror Contract

completely without hope, so far as he could see. Her hopes were

an affront to his despair.
"Marriage is out of the question. We have to sell the house,"
he told her. Out of consideration for his mother he had hidden
from her his discovery about their financial straits.
"You're joking. We still have seven hundred thousand yen in
the bank."
"You're off by three hundred and fifty thousand yen."
"You must have figured wrong-either that or you've embez­
zled it."
Her disease was slowly introducing albumin into her reason.
Yuichi's disclosure had the uncalculated effect of propelling her
feverishly into fantastic scheming. In expectation of Yasuko's
marriage portion and what income Yuichi would get from the
job he had been promised in her father's department store, he
should get married quickly and at the same time somehow man­
age matters so that he could hold on to this house. She had long
dreamed that her son and his wife would come to live here.
The more the gentle Yuichi thought about this the more he felt
trapped into getting married. Then his conscience came to his
rescue. Supposing he did marry Yasuko ( when he grudgingly
went along with this supposition he always exaggerated his mis­
fortune ) , surely it would become known soon that her marriage
portion had saved his home. People would think he married not
for love but out of vulgar self-interest. This young man of integ­
rity, who pardoned not the slightest meanness in himself, was
willing to marry out of filial piety, but he feared that his action
would not be completely pure where love was concerned.
"Let's consider together how we can best realize what you
want," Shunsuke said. "I maintain that marriage has no
meaning. Therefore you can get married without a sense of re­
sponsibility, or even soul-searching. For your sick mother's sake,
it seems advisable. As for the money, however-''
"Oh, I wasn't talking to you with that in mind."
"But I heard it this way. The reason you're afraid of a mar­
riage for money is that you have no confidence that you can
divert your wife from the conviction th·at your love for her is
sullied by ulterior considerations. You hope things work out so
that you can betray this marriage you have entered less than
wholeheartedly. In general, young people insist on believing
that love can vindicate self-interest. Now, there is something you

[ 33 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

c a n depend o n i n the integrity o f a mercenary man like m e . Your

squeamishness comes from some fuzziness in your own integrity.
Take the marriage portion and save it for alimony. That money
doesn't obligate you. From what you said before, if you had four
or five hundred thousand, you could keep your present house
and bring your bride home there. Forgive me for suggesting that
you let me handle that matter. Better keep it a secret from your
mother, though."
It happened that there was a black mirror stand opposite
Yuichi. The round mirror had been knocked askew by the robe
of someone walking past it, but there on its back, as it were , it
reflected full in the face of Yuichi. While they talked, Yuichi felt
as if his own face stared at him from time to time.
Shunsuke strung his words together impatiently.
"As you know, I am not a rich man who can afford to throw
four c: five hundred thousand yen to every fellow that passes, as
if in drunken spree. I want to give it to you for a very simple
reason. In fact, for two reasons-"
He hesitated, as if embarrassed.
"First, you are the most beautiful youth in the world. When I
was young, I always wanted to be what you are . Second, you do
not love women. I still wish I could be that way, but that's
beyond remedy. You have been a revelation to me. Please. Live
my youth again in another way. In short, be my son and avenge
me. You're an only son and you cannot take my name, but
I would like you to become my son in spirit. (Ahl That was a
forbidden word I )
"For countless foolish actions-my lost children-mourn for
me. For this I will spend any amount of money. I didn't save it
up so that I might be h appy in my old age, by any stretch of the
imagination. In retum for it, please don't tell anyone else your
secret. When I ask you to make the acquaintance of some
woman , do it. If ever there breathes a woman who won't fall in
love with you at first sight, I'd like to see her. You can't feel
desire for a woman. I will teach you , point by point, how a man
who has felt desire behaves . I will teach you the coldness of a
man who, while he desires a woman, lets her die yearning for
him.
"At any rate, let's proceed according to orders. Will somebody
see that you can't love women? Leave it to me. I will use all
kinds of tricks to prevent anyone from finding you out. And lest

[ 34 ]
 Mirror Contract

by some mischance you settle down in a peaceful married exist­

ence, I wish you would look into the practice of masculine love.
In that I shall provide opportunities for you to the very best of
my small ability.
"Don't, however, give it away in the world of women. Don't
confuse the stage with the dressingroom. I shall introduce you to
the world of women. I shall bring you before the sets freshly
made up with cosmetics and eau de cologne, sets before which I
have always performed my mimicries. You will play the part of a
Don Juan who never touches a woman. From time immemorial
even the worst Don Juans don't get into bed on stage. Don't
worry. I have served an apprenticeship in backstage machina­
tions."
The old man had just come to his real intention. He was
outlining the plot of a novel he had not yet written. At the same
time he was hiding the embarrassment he felt in his heart's core.
This mad charity performance costing soo,ooo yen was a memo­
rial service held on behalf of what was perhaps his last love ; the
love that had propelled this home-loving old man down to the
southern tip of the Izu Peninsula at the height of summer; the
love which again out of sad foolishness had ended in pitiful
disappointment; his tenth stupid lyric of a love affair.
He had loved Yasuko without intending to. In return for lead­
ing him into this blunder, for causing him to taste this affront,
Yasuko must somehow become the loving wife of an unloving
husband. Her marrying Yuichi sprang from a kind of ferocious
logic that trapped Shunsuke's will. They had to marry.
Now this unhappy writer, past sixty and still unable to find
within himself the power to stand guard over his own will, was
using money to eradicate the foolishness that could still cause
him trouble under the delusion that he was spending it on
beauty. Is there any intoxication more false? Was it not true that
Shunsuke had anticipated this indirect betrayal he held against
Yasuko now, this crime whose pain tore his heart so exquisitely?
Poor Shunsuke , always unhappy, never once the party to
blame.
All the while Yuichi was taken with the face of the beautiful
youth that stared at him out of the mirror in the lamplight. The
deep, mournful eyes under the intelligent brows stared fixedly in
his direction.
Yuichi Minami tasted the mystery of that beauty. The face he

[ 35 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

had always known, filled with the energy of youth, c arved with
the depth of masculinity, bearing the unhappy bronze substance
of youth-it was his own. Until now Yuichi had felt only loath­
ing in his consciousness of his own beauty. The beauty of the
boys he loved, on the other hand, filled him with longing. As
men in general do, Yuichi forbade himself ever to believe that he
was beautiful. But the fervent praise of this old man before him
now rang in his ears; and that artistic poison, the powerful
poison of his words, loosened those inhibitions that had persisted
so long. He now permitted himself to believe that he himself was
beau tiful. Now for the first time Yuichi saw himself in all his
beauty. Within that little round mirror appeared the face of a
surpassingly beautiful youth he had never seen before. The
m anly lips exposed a row of white teeth that involuntarily broke
into a smile.
Yuichi could not have known the passion of Shunsuke's ran­
kling, indeed poisonous vindictiveness. Nevertheless his curious,
hasty proposal demanded an answer.
"What do you say? Will you make an agreement with me?
Will you accept my help?"
"I don't know. Right now there are some things I c an't figure
out that might cause trouble later."
Yuichi said this as if out of a dream.
"It won't hurt if you don't answer now. If you decide to accept
my offer just send me a telegram saying so. I'd like to get things
going soon and I wish you'd let me make one of the speeches at
your wedding reception. Mterward I want you to move in ac­
cordance with our plan. It will be all right. Not only will you
never have any trouble, you'll also get the reputation of being a
husband who runs after women."
"If I'm married-"
"If so, then I shall be absolutely necessary," said the old man,
cocksure of himself.
"Is Yuchan here ?" said Yasuko, from the other side of the
sliding door.
"Come in," said Shunsuke.
Yasuko slid the door open and met the glance of Yuichi, who
looked up without realizing he was doing so.
She saw in his face the enchanting beauty of a young man's
smile. Consciousness had changed his smile. Never before had

[ 36 ]
 Mirror Contract

Yuichi radiated such beauty as he did at this moment. Yasuko

blinked as if dazzled. Then, in the manner of women who h ave
been touched, in spite of herself she felt a presentiment of hap­
piness.
Yasuko had washed her hair in the bath, and while her hair
was still wet she had found it impossible to get Yuichi out of
Shunsuke's room. Leaning out of the window, she had dried her
hair. The passenger ferry, which started at 0 -- Island, then
came to K--, and tomorrow morning in the false light before
dawn would dock at Tsukishima, was now entering the harbor,
its lights gleaming off the water.
There was not much music in the town of K--. Every time a
boat docked, the sound of a popular song could be heard
through the summer air from the loudspeaker on the upper deck.
The lights of the official greeters from the inns flocked about
now, down on the docks . Mter a time the sharp sound of the
docking whistle pierced the night and entered Yasuko's ears like
the cry of a startled bird.
Her hair was drying rapidly and made her feel cold. A few
stray strands of hair across her temple felt as if they were not
hers but were the touch of cold wet leaves. There was something
frightening about the feel of her own hair. The touch of her
hand against her drying h air gave her a startling sense of death.
I just can't figure out what Yuchan is fretting about, Yasuko
thought. If he tells me about it and it's something he must die
for, I won't find it difficult at all to die with him Surely that
.

thought was part of my intention in getting him to come here

with me.
Thus, for a time, while doing her hair, her mind ranged over
many things. Suddenly she was seized by the unhappy thought
that Yuichi was not in Shunsuke's room but in some place she
was not aware of. She got up and hurried into the hall. She
c alled and opened the door, and then she met that smile. It was
n atural that she feel a presentiment of happiness.
"Am I interrupting anything?" she asked.
The old man averted his gaze, conscious that her concern, her
cocked-head coquetries, were clearly not intended for him He .

imagined Yasuko at the age of seventy.

There was a stiffness in the air. As anyone might do at such a
time, Yuichi glanced at his watch. It would soon be nine o'clock.

[ 37 ]
 FORBIDDEN COL ORS

Suddenly the house telephone in the alcove started ringing.

All three stared at the instrument as if it had stabbed them.
No one moved a finger.
At last Shunsuke picked up the receiver. Then he looked in
Yuichi's direction. It was a long-distance call from Yuichi's home
in Tokyo. He went down to the office in order to take the call;
Yasuko went with him, not wishing to be alone with Shunsuke.
After a time the two returned. Yuichi's eyes had lost their
composure. He explained quickly, without being asked : "My
mother is suffering from atrophy of the kidney, they believe . Her
heart is getting weaker and she's terribly thirsty, they tell me.
Whether they take her to a hospital or not, they want me
home right away." Excitement enabled him to deliver this news,
which ordinarily he could not have uttered.
"She keeps repeating all day long that she'd be content to die
after seeing my bride. Sick people are just like children, aren't
they?" As he said these words he realized that he had decided to
marry. Shunsuke sensed this resolution. A dark joy floated in
Shunsuke's eyes.
"At any rate, you'd better get back, hadn't you? "
"We can still make the ten-o'clock boat. I'll g o with you," said
Yasuko. She ran to her room to pack. There was joy in her
steps.
Mother love is an extraordinary thing, thought Shunsuke,
whose mother had found it impossible to love him , ugly as he
was . With all the power of her kidneys she came to the rescue of
her son in his moment of danger. Somehow something told her
that Yuichi wanted to return sometime tonight.
As Shunsuke marveled, Yuichi was deep in reverie. Looking at
his narrow downturned brows, his eyebrows c ast in graceful
masculine shadows, Shunsuke shuddered slightly. This is really a
strange night, he thought. I must be careful about introducing a
pressure that wouldn't go well with his concern over his mother.
Never mind. The boy is coming around to my way of thinking.
They barely made the ten-o'clock embarkation . The first-class
cabins were taken, so they were given two places in a second­
class cabin for eight, Japanese-style. When he was told about
this, Shunsuke nudged Yuichi, "You'll surely sleep well tonight,"
he said.
As soon as the two young people got on board, the gangplank
was raised. On the pierhead two or three men, dressed only in

[ 38 ]
 Mirror Contract

their underwear, held up miner's lamps and made indecent re­

marks to a woman on the deck. She answered back with all the
power of her shrill voice.
Yasuko and Yuichi were embarrassed by this exchange. Smil­
ing fixedly, they waited until the boat was a fair distance from
Shunsuke. Between the boat and pier a silent expanse of water,
gleaming evenly as if oiled, slowly widened. Then it grew, grad­
ually and silently, like a living thing.
The author's right knee hurt slightly from the night air. The
pain of neuralgic seizures provided the only passion of many of
his months and days. He had hated those months and days. Now
he did not hate them at all. The unpredictable pain in that right
knee became for him at times a secret refuge for his passion. He
sent the clerk with his lantern ahead and slowly returned to the
inn.
A week later, immediately after he got back to Tokyo, Shun­
suke received Yuichi's wire consenting to their arrangement.

[ 39 ]
 CHAPTER 3

THE MARRIAGE
O F A D U TIF U L S O N

THE WEDDING DATE was set for a lucky day between the
twentieth and thirtieth of September. Two or three days before
the ceremony Yuichi decided that once he was married he would
have no opportunities to e at alone. Actually he almost never ate
alone anyway; but on the half-formed pretext to do so he walked
down the street. On the second floor of a Western restaurant
which gave off a back street, he took his supper. Surely this
luxury was something a wealthy man with soo,ooo yen could
afford.
It was five o'clock, rather an early hour to dine. The place was
quiet; the waiters moved about sleepily.
His glance fell on the street, bustling in the lingering after­
noon heat. Half of the street was extremely bright. Across the
way, under the awnings of the stores selling Western goods, h e
could see the rays o f the s u n extending into the back o f the show
windows. Like a shoplifter's hand, the sun's rays slowly ap­
proached the shelf on which jade seemed to be resting. While
Yuichi waited for his food to arrive, that one point on the shelf
shimmering in the silence struck his eye from time to time. The
lone youth felt thirsty and sipped at his water continually. He
was quite uncomfortable.
Yuichi did not know the common truth that a multitude of
men who love only men marry and become fathers. He did not
know the truth that, though at some cost, they use their peculiar
qualities in the interest of their marital welfare. Fed to satiety

[ 40 ]
 The Marriage of a Dutiful Son

with the overflowing bounty of woman in a single wife, they

don't so much as lay a hand on another woman. Among the
world's devoted husbands men of this kind are not few. If they
have children, they become more mother than father to them.
Women who have known the pain of being married to philan­
derers find it wise, should they marry again, to seek out such
men. Their married lives are a kind of happy, peaceful, unstimu­
lating, in short, essentially frightful self-desecration. Husbands
of this sort find their ultimate justification in the fact that in all
the human details of life they rule with a sneer that proclaims
their complete self-reliance. To their women, crueler husbands
do not exist, even in their dreams.
It takes age and experience to figure out these subtleties. In
order to endure such a life, some breaking-in is necessary. Yuichi
was twenty-two. Not only that, his utterly crazy patron was
consumed by notions that were unworthy of his years. Yuichi
had at least lost the tragic conviction that had lent intrepidity to
his appearance. He didn't much care what happened.
His food seemed to be a long time coming, and he began to
look idly around the walls. As he did so he became conscious of
a gaze fixed upon his profile. When he turned to intercept that
gaze, which had come to rest like a moth upon his cheek, it
fluttered away. In the comer stood a fair, slim young waiter of
nineteen or twenty.
On his breast were two curving rows of buttons in the latest
style. His hands were turned backward as if his fingers might
have been tapping lightly on the wall. There was something
abashed about the way he stood at attention, evidence that he
had not been a waiter for long. His jet-black hair gleamed. The
languid grace of his limbs went well with the innocence of his
small features; his lips were like a doll's . The line of his hips
showed that his legs had the streamlined purity of a boy's.
Yuichi felt unmistakably the stirrings of desire.
Someone called from the back and the boy left.
Yuicbi smoked a cigarette.
Like a man who has received his draft notice and spends
every effort to use the time until be is inducted in a riot of
pleasure and finally ends up doing nothing, he was bored by the
endless preliminaries his pleasure seemed to require. As on ten
or twenty occasions he had already known, on this one too
Yuichi anticipated his desire would vanish without a trace. Some

[ 41 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

ash fell on the polished knives on his table ; he blew it off, and a
few flecks collected on the rose in the bud vase.
His soup arrived. The boy he h ad noticed earlier-napkin
on his forearm-brought it in a silver tureen. When the
waiter removed the lid and held the tureen over his soup plate,
Yuichi drew back from the cloud of steam rising from it. He
lifted his head and looked the boy full in the face. They were
extremely close. Yuichi smiled. The boy revealed a white c anine
tooth and for an instant returned the smile. Then he left. Yuichi
turned to the brimming bowl of soup before him.
This brief episode, seemingly full of meaning, or perhaps void
of any meaning, remained vivid in his memory. Mterward its
meaning would become clear.

The wedding reception was held in the annex of the Tokyo

Kaikan. The bride and groom, as was customary, sat together in
front of a gold screen. It was not fitting, to say the least, that a
widower such as Shunsuke sit with them in the role of match­
maker. He was present as the famous and honored guest.
The old m an was smoking in the lounge when he was joined
by a couple dressed like all the others in formal kimono and
morning clothes . The woman, however, stood out above all the
others in the lounge with her dignity of mien and her slender,
coolly beautiful face. Her serious, clear eyes unconcernedly ob­
served all that was going on around her.
She was the wife of the former count who, with her as accom­
plice, had extorted 30o,ooo yen in blackmail from Shunsuke. To
one who was aware of this, the affected detachment of her
glance had the aspect of a search for further quarry.
Her stout husband was beside her, squeezing, it seemed, a
pair of white kid gloves in both hands. His sidelong glances
lacked the quiet confidence of the philanderer as his eyes moved
like wary predators about the room. Man and wife had the
demeanor of explorers dropped by parachute in an unexplored
region. This absurd mixture of pride and fear was a thing rarely
encountered among prewar nobility.
The former Count Kaburagi saw Shunsuke and held out his
hand. He fumbled with the other scoundrelly hand at one of the
buttons of his suit, inclined his head slightly, and, with a broad

[ 42 ]
 The Marriage of a Dutiful Son

smile, said, "Go kigen yo!-Cheers ." Since the institution of the
estate tax, snobs had misappropriated this greeting, while it was
the silly penchant of the middle class to avoid it completely.
Since underhandedness was the outward evidence of the count's
noble arrogance, his "Go kigen yo" gave a perfectly natural im­
pression to whoever heard it. In short, through charity, the snob
becomes barely inhuman ; through crime, the nobleman becomes
barely human.
There was, however, something indefinably revolting in the
looks of Kaburagi. Something like a stain in a garment that will
not come out no matter how often cleaned, a mixture of dis­
comfiting weakness and audacity, along with a weird, tightly
constrained voice-giving one the impression of a carefully
planned naturalness . . . .
Shunsuke was suddenly filled with anger. He remembered the
Kaburagis' blackmail scheme. He certainly had no reason to be
obligated to Kaburagi because of the polite greeting.
The old man barely acknowledged the greeting. Then he
thought that response childish and decided to amend it. He got
up from the sofa. Kaburagi was wearing spats over his patent­
leather shoes. When he saw Shunsuke stand up he retreated two
paces on the polished floor as if he were dancing. Then he re­
membered that he had not seen one of the ladies here for a long
time and greeted her as if sensible of having neglected her.
Shunsuke had arisen but now had no place to go. Mrs. Kaburagi
immediately came over and led him to a window.
She was usually not given to long-winded greetings. She moved
briskly, her kimono moving in correct folds about her ankles .
A s she stood before the window i n which the lamps o f the room
were reflected clearly against the twilight, Shunsuke was amazed
that not a wrinkle marred the beauty of her skin. She was,
however, ingenious at selecting just the right angle and just the
right lighting at a moment's notice.
She did not touch on the past. She and her husband worked
according to the psychology that if you show no embarrassment
the other party will.
"You're looking well. In this place, my husband looks much
older than you."
''I'd like to age quickly, too," said the sixty-five-year old writer.
''I'm still committing a lot of youthful indiscretions."
"You naughty old man. You're still romantic, aren't you ?"

[ 43 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

"An d you?''
"How dare you l I still have a long time to live. As for today's
groom, before you marry him off to play house with that mere
child of a bride, I wish you would send him around to me for
two or three months of instruction."
"What do you think of Minami as a bridegroom?" As he non­
chalantly threw out this question, Shunsuke's eyes, muddy with
yellow blood vessels , observed the woman's expression atten­
tively. He was absolutely sure that if her cheek quivered ever so
slightly, if she displayed the faintest glint in her eye, he would
not fail to catch it, enlarge it, dilate it, set it flaming, develop it
into the highest state of irresistible passion. In general a novelist
does just that : he is a genius at stirring up someone else's pas­
sion.
"I never set eyes on him before today. I've heard rumors about
him, though . He's a much more beautiful young man than I
thought. But when a young man like this at twenty-two takes an
uninteresting bride who knows so little about the world, I fore­
see a pretty stale romance, and when I do, I get more and more
upset."
"What do the guests he has invited say about him?"
"He's all they talk about. Yasuko's classmates, though, are
green with envy and finding fault. All they can say is 'I don't like
his type I' I can't say enough about the groom's smile. It's a smile
filled with the fragrance of youth."
"How about bringing all this up in your congratulatory
speech? Who knows, it may do some good. This marriage is,
after all, not the kind of love match that's so fashionable now­
adays ."
"Just the same, that's what they're giving it out as."
"It's a lie. It's a wedding of the noblest kind. It is the marriage
of a dutiful son."
Shunsuke's eyes flicked to the overstuffed chairs in a corner of
the lounge. Yuichi's mother was sitting there. The powder that
lay thick on her rather swollen face made it difficult to determine
the age of this cheerful middle-aged woman. She was making
every effort to smile , but her swollen face prevented it. Heavy,
twitching grimaces were continually appearing on her cheeks.
This was the last happy moment of her life. Happiness is so
ugly, thought Shunsuke. At that moment the mother made a

[ 44 ]
 The Marriage of a Dutiful Son

gesture as if to run her hand, on which an old-fashioned dia­

mond ring gleamed, over her hip. Perhaps she was saying that
she wished to urinate. A middle-aged woman nearby, in a wis­
teria-colored dress, bent her head toward her and whispered
something, then gave her hand to Yuichi's mother and helped her
up. They made their way through the crowd, throwing greetings
to the guests, and proceeded to the hall toward the rest rooms.
When he saw that swollen face so close by, Shunsuke was
reminded of the dead face of his third wife, and he shuddered.
"It's not something we see often nowadays," said Mrs.
Kaburagi coldly.
"Shall I arrange for you and Yuichi to meet sometime?"
"It's rather difficult right after the wedding, isn't it?"
"How about when he gets back from the honeymoon ?"
"Promise ? I'd like to have one long talk with that bridegroom."
"You don't have any preconceived notions about marriage, do
you?"
"Other people's marriages. Even mine isn't my marriage but
someone else's. I don't have anything to do with it," said this
coolly poised lady.
The attendants , at a signal, began to announce dinner. The
crowd of about a hundred guests surged toward one of the dining
rooms in a body. Shunsuke was placed at the main table with
the honored guests. The old writer bitterly regretted that, from
his seat, he could not watch the expression of discomfiture that
had been flashing on Yuichi's face since the ceremonies began.
Perceptive onlookers could tell that the dark eyes of the bride­
groom were surely an outstanding feature of the evening.
The banquet moved along without interruption . As was cus­
tomary, the bride and groom were applauded as they rose from
their seats. The couple serving as matchmakers spared no effort
in helping this grown-up yet childish pair of newlyweds. Yuichi
had great difficulty with the tie of his traveling suit and had to
retie it several times.
Finally, he and the matchmaker were standing near the car
for them at the entrance, waiting for Yasuko, who was still
getting ready. The matchmaker, a former cabinet minister,
importuned Yuichi to have a cigar. The young bridegroom
clumsily lit the cigar and looked down the street.
They did not wish to wait in the car; it was too warm, and

[ 45 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

they were a little tipsy from the wine. So the two men leaned
against the shiny car, its surfaces lit intermittently by the head­
lights of passing traffic. They chatted idly.
"Don't worry about your mother," said the matchmaker. "I'll
take good care of her while you're away."
Yuichi listened to these kindly words from this old friend of
his father's with joy. Though he thought he had become alto­
gether cold-hearted, he was still quite sentimental about his
mother.
At that moment a slender man, not Japanese, crossed the
sidewalk from a building opposite. He wore a suit of eggshell
color and a bright bow tie. He approached what seemed to be
his own late model Ford parked in the street and inserted the
key. As he did so a young Japanese appeared behind him and
stood for a time on the stone staircase, looking about. He wore a
slim, double-breasted suit, obviously tailor-made, with a checked
pattern. His necktie, which was vivid yellow, was visible even in
the dark. In the light from the building his oily h air glistened as
if sprinkled with water. Yuichi looked again and started. It was
the young waiter of a few days ago.
The Westerner called to the youth, who jumped into the front
seat with practiced ease. His companion joined him, sliding be­
neath the steering wheel and slamming the door with a loud
bang.
"What's wrong?" said the matchmaker. "You're white as a
sheet."
"Yes, I guess I'm not used to cigars. I smoked only a little of it,
but I feel terrible."
"That's not good. Give it to me, I'll dispose of it." The m atch­
maker put the lighted cigar in a silver-plated cigar-shaped re-.
ceptacle and closed the lid with a snap. The noise caused Yuichi
to jump again. At that moment Yasuko, in a traveling suit and
wearing lace gloves, appeared among a crowd of well-wishers at
the entrance.
The two went to Tokyo Station by car. From there they took
the seven-thirty train bound for Numazu, on the way to Atami,
their destination . Yasuko's happiness was such that she was
barely conscious of her behavior; it made Yuichi uncomfortable.
His gentle spirit had always been capable of including love, but
now it had become a thin vessel, not really meant for so volatile
 The Marriage of a Dutiful Son

a substance. His heart was like a dark storehouse filled with

ceremonial notions.
Yasuko handed him the popular magazine she had been read­
ing. From its table of contents the word "Jealousy" flashed out in
bold type. For the first time he felt able to attach that motive to
his own dark impulses. Jealousy was what seemed to be the
source of his unhappiness.
Of whom ?
He thought of the youth, the waiter he had seen a short time
earlier. Here he was bound on his honeymoon journey, in the
company of his bride, and he was feeling jealous of a youth he
had barely seen. He recoiled at the thought of himself. He must
be some strange creature indeed, he thought, without shape or
semblance of anything human.
Yuichi rested his head against the linen-draped chair. He
watched Yasuko's downtumed face distantly. Surely he could
not make her out to be a boy ! This eyebrow? This eye? This
nose? These lips? He clucked at himself like an artist who had
failed in sketch after sketch. Finally he closed his eyes and tried
to think of Yasuko as a man. Something perverse in this imagi­
native process, however, made of the lovely woman in front of
him something less lovable than a woman-in fact, more and
more the image of something ugly and impossible to love.

[ 47 ]
 C H A P TER 4
FOREST FIRE IN THE
D I S TAN T TWI L I G H T

ONE EVENING early in October, Yuichi ate supper and went

to his study. He looked around him. It was a student's quarters,
simply furnished. The concentration of its only occupant loitered
there chastely, like an unseen sculpture. This was the only place
in the house not yet wedded to woman. Only here could the
unhappy youth breathe freely.
Ink bottle, scissors, pencil vase, knife, dictionary-he loved to
see them glitter brilliantly in the lamplight. Things are solitude.
When in their happy circle he hazily conjectured that surely this
was what the world meant by "family circle." The ink bottle
looked at the scissors and said nothing about whether it had yet
taken certain steps regarding their mutually independent reasons
for being. The clear, inaudible laughter of that circle. The cir­
cle's only qualification for mutual security . . .
When that word "qualification" entered his mind, it gave him
pain. The outward peace of the Minami household was like an
accusation leveled against him. The smiling face of his mother,
who, fortunately, was not suffering because of her kidney condi­
tion and had not been hospitalized; Yasuko's misty smile that
hovered on her face night and day; this repose . . . Everybody
was asleep; he was the only one awake. He felt uneasy that he
should be living with a sleeping family. He was tempted to
arouse them deliberately out of their sleep. But if he did . . .
indeed his mother, Yasuko, even Kiyo would wake up. And from
that instant they would hate him. It was a kind of betrayal for
 Forest Fire in the Distant Twilight

one to be awake while the others slept. The night watchman,

however, guards by betrayal. By betraying sleep he protects
sleep. Ah, this human watch, maintaining truth beside the sleep­
ing ! Yuichi felt a hatred toward the night watchman. He hated
his human role.
It was not yet time for exams. All he had to do was look over
his notes. Economic history, public finance, statistics-all his
notes were arranged there, transcribed meticulously in tiny
characters. His friends were amazed at the preciseness of his
notes, though it was a mechanical precision. Mornings in the
sunlit autumn classroom, amid the rustling agitation of hun­
dreds of pens, the machine-like character was what particularly
marked Yuichi's pen. What made his passionless jottings look
almost like shorthand }Vas his habit of treating thought as noth­
ing more than an exercise in mechanical self-discipline.
Today he had gone to school for the first time since the wed­
ding. School was a real refuge. Then he had returned. There was
a call from Shunsuke. From the receiver came the dry, clear,
high v,oice of the old man.
"It's been a long time. Aren't you well? I haven't wanted to
bother you. Can you have dinner with me tomorrow night? I
wish I could invite your wife, too, but I'd like to hear how things
are going, so this time just you alone. Better not tell her you're
coming here. When she answered the phone, she said something
about coming over with you to see me on Sunday; you'd better
act on that day as if it were your first visit since your honey­
moon. So come tomorrow. The time? Well, five o'clock. Someone
else will be here that I want you to meet."
When he thought of that phone call, he felt as if a great,
importunate moth had tumbled across the surface of the page he
was studying; He closed his notebook. "It's another woman," he
muttered-that alone was enough to make him feel thoroughly
worn out.
Yuichi feared the night like a child. Tonight was a night when
he could at least feel liberated from his sense of duty. This one
night, he would stretch himself out luxuriously on his bed; he
would receive the coveted reward of rest for having, until the
night before, repeatedly performed his duties. He would awaken
on pure, unrumpled sheets. This was the greatest of all rewards.
Ironically, however, this night his repose was denied him by the
promptings of desire. Desire lapped and retreated at the dark

[ 4 !) ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

edges o f his insides, like water o n the shore ; i t retreated and then
it quietly stole back again.
Grotesque, passionless acts , over and over. The icy play of
sensuality, over and over. Yuichi's first night had been a model of
the effort of desire, an ingenious impersonation that deceived an
inexperienced buyer. In short, the impersonation had succeeded.
Shunsuke had instructed Yuichi carefully about contraceptive
methods, but Yuichi feared that these methods would get in the
way of the vision he had worked hard to construct, and he
abandoned them. Reason told him to avoid conceiving a child,
but he feared more the embarrassment he would suffer if he
failed in the act with which he was immediately concerned. The
next night, too, out of a kind of superstition, he came to believe
that the success of the first night was facilitated by his avoidance
of contraceptive measures, and fearing the obstacles they might
place in his path, he repeated the blind actions of the first night.
On the second night the successful impersonation became a
faithful impersonation of an impersonation !
When he thought of those hazardous nights-cold from be­
ginning to end-he had somehow struggled through , Yuichi
shuddered. First night of mystery in that Atami hotel, bride and
groom overcome by the same fear. While Yasuko was taking her
bath, he went out on the balcony, far from calm. The hotel's dog
barked in the night.
There was a dance hall down below the hotel, where all the
lights lit the vicinity of the station. He could clearly hear the
music from it. When he looked carefully he could see black
human shapes within the windows, moving, stopping when the
music stopped. When it stopped he could feel his pulse quicken.
He recited Shunsuke's words to himself as if invoking a charm.
"Just make believe she's a bundle of sticks, a cushion, a side of
beef hanging from a beam in the butcher shop." Yuichi ripped
off his necktie and laced it like a whip against the iron railing of
the balcony. He needed to act, to use his power.
Finally, when the lights were out, he had to fall back on his
imaginative powers. Impersonation is a superlative act of
creativity. While involved in impersonation, however, Yuichi felt
that he had nothing to impersonate. Instinct intoxicates man
with a commonplace originality, but his anti-instinctive, ex­
cruciating originality did not intoxicate him in the slightest.
"Guys who do this are never alone, before or after. I am alone. I

[ 50 ]
 Forest Fire in the Distant Twilight

have to think it up, then do it. Every moment waits, holding its
breath for the command of my imagination. Look ! At the cold
scenery of another of my will's victories over instinct ; at how a
woman's joy blows up like a tiny, dusty whirlwind in the middle
of this desolate landscape."
For all that, it was not right that there was not another beau­
tiful male in Yuichi's bed. A mirror was needed between him
and the woman. Without help, success was doubtful for him. He
closed his eyes and embraced the woman. In doing so he em­
braced his own body in his mind.
In the dark room the two of them slowly became four people.
The intercourse of the real Yuichi with the boy he had made
Yasuko into, and the intercourse of the makeshift Yuichi-imag­
ining he could love a woman-with the real Yasuko had to go
forward simultaneously. From this double vision at times a
dreamlike delight spurted. This gave way immediately to a
boundless exhaustion. Yuichi several times saw a vision of the
empty athletic field of his school after hours, with not a soul
visible. In the face of this rapture he would throw himself on the
ground. With this momentary suicide the act was over. Begin­
ning with the next day, however, suicide became a custom.
Overwhelming weariness and nausea stalked their honey­
moon's second day. They ascended toward the top of the town,
which hung over the sea at a perilous angle. Yuichi felt as if he
were displaying his good fortune before men.
They went out on the wharf and for amusement peered
through the three-minutes-for-five-yen telescope. The sea was
clear. On the top of the cape on the right they could see clearly
an arbor in Nishikigaura Park, bright in the morning sunlight. A
twosome crossed the arbor and melted into the gleam of a patch
of pampas grass. Another couple entered the arbor and drew
close together. The forms of the two became one. On turning the
telescope to the right they saw a stone-paved road sloping gently
upward where, at various points, several groups were ascending.
The shapes of each group were etched sharply on the stone
pavement. Yuichi was overwhelmed with relief to see these iden­
tical shapes following his footsteps.
"They're just like us, aren't they ?" said Yasuko. Stepping away
from the telescope, she leaned on the parapet, exposing her
forehead to the sea breeze. Now, however, envious of his wife's
certainty, Yuichi was silent.

[ J I ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

Returning from his unhappy thoughts to the present, Yuichi

gazed from the window. The tower windows opened on a view
of the Tokyo horizon on the other side of the trolley tracks and
the shantytowns where the factory chimneys bristled. On clear
days, that horizon seemed to ascend just a bit higher thanks to
the smoke. Nights-perhaps from the night shift, or perhaps,
too, from the faint glow of neon lights-the skirts of the sky in
that vicinity were tinged from time to time with red.
Tonight's vermilion, however, was somehow different. The
edge of the sky was quite clearly intoxicated. Since the moon
had not yet risen, that drunkenness stood out in the light of the
faint stars. Not only that, the faint vermilion was fluttering.
Striped in smoggy apricot, it looked like a mysterious flag flutter­
ing in the wind.
Yuichi recognized it as a fire.
At the same time there was a darkening of the white smoke
around the flame.
The beautiful youth's eyes were cloudy with desire. His flesh
throbbed languidly. He did not know why, but he could stay
here no longer. He got up from his chair. He had to get out. He
had to get rid of the feeling. He went out the front door and tied
the belt of the light navy-blue trench coat he wore over his school
uniform. He told Yasuko that he had remembered a reference
book he needed and was going to find it if he could.
He went down the hill. On the trolley street, into which the
feeble light filtered from the meager shanties, he waited for the
car. He would go into the center of town with no particular
destination in mind. Soon the glaring streetcar staggered around
the comer. There was not a seat to be had; the dozen or so
standing passengers were distributed along the aisle, leaning
against the windows or hanging on straps.
Yuichi leaned against a window and lifted his glowing face
directly into the night wind. The distant fire was invisible from
here. Was i t really a fire? Was it, on the other hand, the glow of
a worse, even more unfortunate catastrophe ?
There was nobody b y the window adjacent t o Yuichi's. A t the
next stop two men got on and moved in beside him. All they
could see of Yuichi was his back. For no reason at all Yuichi
circumspectly looked them over.
One was about forty, looked like a store clerk, and wore a gray
jacket that had been made over from a suitcoat. He had a little

[ 52 ]
 Forest Fire in the Distant Twilight

scar behind his ear. His diligently combed hair was larded dis­
gustingly with grease that made it glisten. The clay-colored
cheeks of his long, oval face were covered with thick, long hairs,
like weeds. The other was an ordinary office worker, by the looks
of him, dressed in a brown suit. His face reminded one of a rat,
though he was extremely fair, even pallid. His shrimp-brown ,
imitation tortoise-shell glasses accentuated his pallor all the
more. His age Yuichi could not estimate.
The two conversed in low tones. Their voices buzzed with a
nameless, sticky intimacy and a lip-licking joyful secrecy. Their
conversation entered Yuichi's ears relentlessly.
"Where are you going now?" said the man in the brown suit.
"Men have been pretty scarce lately," said the clerk. "I really
need one. When such a time comes, I just walk around."
"Are you going to H -- Park today?"
"That has a bad reputation. Call it the 'Park,' in English."
"Oh, excuse me. Do nice boys come around?"
"Once in a while. The best time is right now. Later on there
are only foreigners."
"I haven't been there in a long time. I'd like to go again
sometime. Today's out, though."
"You and I won't be looked at suspiciously by professionals.
They are jealous of those who are younger and prettier than we
are because they stand in the way of their business."
The squeal of wheels broke in on their conversation. Yuichi's
breast was turbulent with curiosity. The ugliness of these kin­
dred spirits he was seeing for the first time, however, wounded
his self-respect. Their ugliness struck him right where his long­
cultivated agony at being different festered. Compared with
them, he thought, Hinoki's face is venerable, and at least his is a
masculine ugliness.
The trolley had arrived at the transfer point for center-bound
cars. The man in the jacket parted from his companion and
stood at the door. Yuichi followed him and got out. He was
moved more by a sense of duty to himself than by curiosity.
The intersection was fairly busy. He waited for the next car, as
far away as possible from the man in the jacket. In a fruit store
in front of him the autumn fruits were piled in abundance under
the overbright lamps. Here were grapes; purple under their
darkish bloom, they mingled sunny autumn brilliance with the
Fuyu persimmons nearby. Pears also, along with early green

[ 53 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

mandarin oranges. There were apples. The heaps of fruit, how­

ever, were as cold as corpses.
The man in the jacket looked toward Yuichi. Their eyes met;
Yuichi looked away unconcernedly. The man's gaze, intolerably
persistent, did not falter. Will it be my fate to sleep with this
man? Perhaps I don't have any choice. Yuichi shuddered at the
thought. Mingled with the shudder was an unclean, putrescent
sweetness.
The trolley arrived , and Yuichi swiftly boarded it. Perhaps
during their earlier conversation they had not seen his face. It
wouldn't do for them to think him one of their sort. In the eyes
of the man in the gray jacket, however, desire burned. Standing
on tiptoe, he stared intently, searching Yuichi's face. Complete
face ; intrepid, young wolf's face ; ideal face . . .
Yuichi, however, turned the broad back of his navy-blue
trench coat and looked at the placard painted in fall colors : "Go
to N -- Hot Spring in the Fall." The advertisements were all
like that. Hot springs; hotels; rooms by day or week; you can rest
here ; see our Romance Room ; best facilities, lowest prices . . .
In one poster there was the silhouette of a naked woman on the
wall and an ash tray with a cigarette wafting smoke. "For a
souvenir of one night this fall, stay at this hotel," the caption
read.
These advertisements pained Yuichi. He was coming to the
inescapable conclusion that society is governed by the rule of
heterosexuality, that endlessly tiresome principle of majority
rule.
The car soon carne to the center of town and ran under the
light from windows of buildings already closed or about to close.
There were few pedestrians; the trees along the street were dark.
The park's shrubbery, fading into blackness, came in sight.
There was a car stop in front of the park. Yuichi got off first.
Fortunately there were many others getting off with him. The
other man was behind them all. Yuichi crossed the street with
the others and went into a little comer store across from the
park. Picking up a magazine as if to read it he studied the park.
The man was standing restlessly in front of the public rest room
just off the sidewalk. Clearly, he was searching for Yuichi.
The man went into the rest room ; Yuichi left the store and,
cutting through a tide of flowing traffic , swiftly crossed the

[ )4 ]
 Forest Fire in the Distant Twilight

street. The rest room was dark under the trees. There was, how­
ever, a suggestion of a multitude walking softly, a stealthy bus­
tling, a certain unseen assemblage. It was, for instance, as if at a
public banquet, when all the doors and windows were tight shut
and the faint sound of music, the clatter of dishes, the plop of
corks being pulled, all issued indistinctly-this was how it
seemed. Actually, it was a toilet, under a cloud of evil odors. As
far as Yuichi could observe, no one was in sight.
He entered the dim, clammy lamplight of the rest room , and
saw what is called an "office" among the fellowship. (There are
four or five such important places in Tokyo. ) It was an office
where the tacit office procedure is based on winks instead of
documents, tiny gestures instead of print , code communication
in place of a telephone. This was the dimly lighted, silent office
whose activities here greeted Yuichi's eyes. He saw nothing defi­
nite, though , beyond a group of at least ten men-many for this
hour-exchanging furtive glances.
All at once, they saw Yuichi's face. Then many eyes glistened,
many eyes stared in envy. Under their glances the beautiful
young man felt himself torn eight ways by fear. Then he wav­
ered. There was, however, a kind of order in the movements of
the men. It was as if they were held by a restraining power so
that the pace of all their movements were carefully regulated.
They moved like a clump of seaweed untangling slowly in the
water.
Yuichi fled from the doorway of the toilet to the shelter of the
eight-finger shrubs in the park. As he did so, he saw the glow of
cigarettes here and there on the paths ahead of him. Lovers who
strolled arm in arm along the narrow paths at the rear of the
park, in daylight or before sundown, surely never dreamed that a
few hours later they would be put to a completely different use.
One might say that the park had changed faces. Another side of
the face than that which appeared during the daytime now man­
ifested itself.
As a human banquet at midnight might become in the final
act of a Shakespearean play a banquet for ghosts, the bench
where lovers from the office casually sit and chat and enjoy the
view becomes at night something that can be termed a "First­
class Stage." The dark stone stairway which grade-school chil­
dren on a hike find too steep and must run up so as not to fall

[ 55 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

behind has its name changed t o "Runway for Men." The long
road in back of the park has its name changed to "First Sight
Road." All are night names.
The police knew these names well as part of their jurisdiction
which they neglected, since there were no laws by which they
might crack down. In London and in Paris, of course, parks
serve this purpose as a practical necessity, but it is a sign of some
ironic charity that a public place like this, symbol of the princi­
ple of majority rule, should benefit such a small number of peo­
ple. H-- Park has been used as a gathering place for men of
this sort since the time of the last emperor, when a part of its
area was a military drill field.
At any rate, Yuichi, without realizing it, was standing at the
edge of "First Sight Road." He went up the road the wrong way.
The men stood in the shadows of the trees or walked along the
sidewalk.
This company-this choosing, craving, pursuing, joyfully
seeking, sighing, dreaming, loitering company-this company
with sentiments whetted by the narcotic of custom-this com­
pany whose desire had been changed to something ugly by an in­
curable esthetic disease exchanged fixedly sad stares as its mem­
bers roved under the dim light of the street lamps. In the night
many, many, wide-open, thirsty glances met and melted into
each other. At the bend of the path, hand in hand, shoulder
against shoulder, eyes over shoulders, while the night breeze
softly rustled the branches; now coming, now going again, the
appraising looks sharply cast crossed in the same place . . . in­
sects sang under the bushes where either the moon or the street
lamps formed patches of light and shadow under the trees. The
sound of the insects and the light from the cigarettes blinking
on and off here and there in the darkness deepened the silence so
heavy with feeling. At times the headlights of automobiles
zipping by beyond or within the park set the shadows of the trees
shivering and momentarily launched into view the shapes of
hitherto unseen men standing there.
They are all my comrades, Yuichi thought as he walked. Rank,
occupation, age, beauty notwithstanding , they are a fellowship
welded by the same emotion-by their private parts, let us say.
What a bond ! These men do not have to sleep together. From
the day we were born we have slept together. In hatred, in

[ 56 ]
 Forest Fire in the Distant Twilight

jealousy, in scorn, coming together for a short moment of love

just to keep warm.
What is there about the walk of that man over there? His body
is all affectation-his shoulders narrowed, his wide hips sway­
ing, his neck at a posturing angle. His walk reminds one of the
peristaltic glide of a snake. Closer than parent or child, more
than wife, brother, or sister, they are my comrades . . . hopeless­
ness is a kind of repose.
Yuichi's despair had lightened a little. It was partly because,
even in so large a group of his own kind, none displayed a
beauty that surpassed his. Still, he thought, I wonder what hap­
pened to that fellow in the jacket. I don't know whether he was
still in the toilet. I got so scared, I took off without seeing him. Is
that him I see standing around under the tree?
The superstitious fear came back, the frightening conviction
that, having encountered that man, he must end up sleeping
with him. To settle his agitation, he lit a cigarette. At that mo­
ment a youth approached with an unlighted, perhaps deliber­
ately pinched out cigarette, saying, "Excuse me. Can you give
me a light?"
He was dressed in a well-tailored gray double-breasted suit,
a fine felt hat, necktie in the best of taste . . . Silently, Yuichi
handed him his cigarette. The youth turned his oval face. Seeing
that face more distinctly Yuichi shuddered. The veins in the
man's hand, the deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, were
those of a person well past forty. The eyebrows were meticu­
lously blackened; the aging skin lay masked beneath the theatri­
cal makeup. His unnaturally long eyelashes, too, could not pos­
sibly be genuine.
The aged youth lifted his round eyes as if about to say some­
thing. Yuichi, however, turned his back and walked away. As he
did so-slowly, so as not to appear to be escaping the man, who
had aroused his pity-the other men, who had seemed intent on
approaching him, also turned. There were five or more. Sepa­
rately, each nonchalantly changed direction. One, Yuichi per­
ceived clearly, was the man in the jacket. Unconsciously, he
walked faster. These silent admirers, however, followed closely,
as if bent on gazing at that beautiful face.
When he reached the stone staircase, Yuichi estimated the
distance and counted on finding an escape route at the top. He

[ 57 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O LORS

did not know its nighttime name. The moonlit night glittered at
the head of the stairway. As he climbed, he saw someone coming
toward him, whistling carelessly as he descended. It was a boy in
a tight white sweater. Yuichi looked at his face. It was the same
boy he had seen in the restaurant.
"Oh . Big brother!" the boy said, extending his hand as he
moved impulsively toward Yuichi. The uneven surface of the
stones caused him to sway momentarily. Yuichi grasped his slim,
firm waist. This physical encounter had a strange effect upon
him.
"Do you remember me ? " the boy asked.
"Yes, I remember you," Yuichi replied.
He held back the memory of the pain that had troubled him at
seeing the boy on his wedding day. Their hands were still
clasped in greeting. Yuichi could feel the rough setting of the
ring on the boy's little finger. It recalled the sensation of coarse
fibers of the towel thrown against his shoulder by a schoolmate
back in high school.
Hand in hand, the two hurried out of the park. Yuichi's breast
heaved. He drew the boy, with whom he had somehow locked
arms, along with him. There on that quiet night path, where
lovers often strolled, they ran .
"Why are you hurrying so?" the boy said, gasping for breath.
Yuichi flushed and stopped short.
"There's nothing to be afraid of. You're j ust not used to it, big
brother, are you?" the boy said.
The three hours they spent soon afterward in a hotel of
doubtful reputation was to Yuichi like a bath in a hot waterfall.
He divested himself of every human restraint ; his soul was
stripped naked in those three drunken hours. How delicious is it
to strip the body to nakedness ! In that moment when his soul
doffed and discarded its robe and stood naked, Yuichi's ecstasy
was lifted by a fierceness so intense that it seemed almost as if
there was no room left for his body.
It must, however, be set straight immediately that it was not
Yuichi who bought the boy so much as it was the boy who
bought Yuichi. In other words, a skillful seller bought a clumsy
buyer. The boy's skill made Yuichi tremble violently with plea­
sure. The reflection of the neon signs against the window cur­
tains was like a fire. Amid those reflecting flames a pair of
shields -Yuichi's beautiful manly breast-floated. Somehow in

[ J8 ]
 Forest Fire in the Distant Twilight

the night a strange chill affected his allergy-sensitive constitu­

tion, and in several places on his breast hives appeared in red
lumps. With a sigh , the boy kissed the spots one by one.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, drawing on his trousers, the
boy pleaded, "When will I see you again?"
Yuichi was to see Shunsuke the following day.
"The day after tomorrow is all right. Not in the park, though."
"You're right. We don't have to do that. Ever since I was a
child I have yearned for the man whom I met for the first time
tonight. I have never seen a man so lovely as you, big brother.
Surely, God sent you , didn't He? Didn't He ? Please, don't ever
get tired of me."
The boy rubbed the nape of his slim neck against Yuichi's
shoulder. Yuichi rubbed the boy's neck with his fingertips and
closed his eyes. At this time he took pleasure in the anticipation
that he might someday discard his first lover.
"Day after tomorrow, as soon as the restaurant closes, I'll
come. Near here there is a coffeehouse where only the fellows
come around. It looks like a club, though, and some regular
people who know no better come in for coffee. So it's all right if
you go there . Now let me draw you a map.
"All right. You'll find it right away, I think. Oh, from now on
my name is Eichan. What's yours ? "
"Yuchan."
"That's a nice name."
Yuichi was slightly irritated by the compliment. He was
shocked that the boy was much more at ease than he.
They parted at the street corner. Yuichi caught the last trolley
and went on home. Neither his mother nor Yasuko asked where
he had been. Asleep beside Yasuko in his bed, Yuichi felt relaxed
for the first time. He had already scored a victory. Having been
thrown into curiously sinful pleasures, he compared himself to a
prostitute who had come to the end of a happy holiday and was
now returning to her daily employment.
There was, however, a deeper meaning in the comparison he
had formed, half in fun. It was a first impression of the unex­
pected influence that the modest, powerless Yasuko would some­
day exert on her husband; in fact, it conveyed a presentiment of
its eventual domination.
When I compare my body stretched out beside that boy,
thought Yuichi, with my body now stretched out beside Yasuko,

[ J!) ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

I feel so cheap. Yasuko does not give her body to me; I give
mine to her, and I do it free. I am an unpaid prostitute.
These self-deprecating thoughts did not hurt him as before;
somehow they delighted him. Tired, he slowly sank into slumber
-like a lazy prostitute.

[ 6o ]
 CHAPTER 5'

THE FIRS T S TEPS

TOWARD SALVATION

,. ....
�- . -

THE SMILING FACE of Yuichi, brimming with happiness,

that appeared at the door the next day disconcerted Shunsuke
fust of all, and later the woman c aller whom Shunsuke had
invited Yuichi to meet. Each had anticipated that the badge of
misfortune would fit this youth best. It must be said they were
wrong. Yuichi's beauty was universal. There was no badge, as it
were, that did not become him. With a woman's quick, apprais­
ing glance, Mrs. Kaburagi saw this immediately. This youth is
cut out for happiness, she thought. A youth who c an wear hap­
piness as one might wear a black suit is a being that must be
termed precious in our day.
Yuichi paid the lady the courtesy of thanking her for her
presence at his wedding reception. The artless cheerfulness of
his manners was enough to make any friendly woman affect
mincing familiarities with a young man. His smiling face, she
told him, was enough to set the flag of "Just Married" fluttering
from his forehead. She warned him of her fear that if that flag
were not removed when he left the house he would not be able
to see where he was going and be hit by a trolley or car.
The old man listened to his answer with an open smile ; Yuichi
seemed oblivious of her banter. Shunsuke's perplexity revealed
the foolish look of a man trying to hide the fact that he had been
betrayed. For the first time, Yuichi began to despise this
pompous, ancient man. Not only that, he tasted the joy of the

[ 61 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

swindler in the fantasy that he had bilked him of soo,ooo yen.

Thus, the meal shared by the three was unexpectedly animated .
Shunsuke Hinoki had a long-standing admirer who was a skill­
ful chef. His culin ary art filled the china collected by Shunsuke's
father with delicacies that became them. Out of his constitu­
tional lack of interest Shunsuke was fastidious about neither the
s tyle of his china nor his cookery, but when he had people over
he usually sought the aid of this man, who begged to be of
service.
This is what this second son of a Kyoto textile merchant, a
pupil of Kitsu Issai in the Kaiseki school, prepared for this eve­
ning's board : a Ia Kaiseki, a has sun tray of hors d'oeuvres made
of mushrooms with pine needles, fried lily roots, Hachiya persim­
mons sent by a friend in Gifu, soybeans from the Daitokuji, and
calico-fried crab; followed by red miso broth combined with the
flesh of small birds ground with mustard; and then, in elegant
Sung dynasty red plates in a peony pattern , sliced raw ftatheads
prepared blowfish-style ; the fried course was spawning sweetfish
broiled in soy, served with hatsutake mushrooms in a blue Aoae
dressing and ark shellfish in white sesame and bean-paste dress­
ing. The boiled course was pickled bracken in bream bean curd,
served with a steaming broth containing red madders. After the
meal they were served .Morihachi, "little rising monks," white
and pink dolls individually wrapped in tissue paper. Even these
rare delicacies, however, did not serve to loosen the youthful
tongue of Yuichi. It was an omelet he craved.
"This meal isn't much to your liking, is it, Yuichi ?" said Shun­
suke, noting the youth's lack of appetite. He asked him what he
would prefer. Yuichi simply answered what was on the top of his
mind. That single, artless word "omelet," however, went straight
to the heart of Mrs. Kaburagi.
Yuichi was deceived by his own j oy. He forgot that he was
incapable of loving women. The exposure of fixed ideas some­
times cures fixed ideas ; but it was only the idea and not its cause
that was cured. His false sense of being cured, however, left him
free for the first time to revel drunkenly among hypotheses.
Assuming everything I've said is a lie, Yuichi thought to him­
self with more or less euphoric gaiety, suppose I really loved
Yasuko and, strapped for cash, had cooked up a cock-and-bull
story for this philanthropic old novelist; then I'd really be in a

[ 62 J
 The First Steps Toward Salvation

fine position now. Then my triumph, my lovely-spot-in-the-coun­

try happiness, might boast that it was built on an unquiet grave.
My unborn children would hear stories of an old skeleton buried
beneath the dining-room floor.
Now Yuichi felt embarrassed by the excess of truth that comes
with confession. Last night's three hours had changed the qual­
ity of his sincerity.
Shunsuke filled the lady's sake cup. The sake overflowed and
ran over onto her shiny j acket.
Yuichi drew a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiped
it.
The bright white gleam of the handkerchief somehow made
her feel a delicious tenseness.
Shunsuke wondered what it was that had made his old hand
shake so. He had frozen in his jealousy of the woman, whose
eyes did not stray from Yuichi's face. Even though self­
indulgence would spoil everything for Shunsuke, and it was nec­
essary for him to suppress all emotion, Yuichi's unexpected
cheerfulness made the old man act irrationally. He reflected
about it for a moment : it is not true that it is the beauty of this
youth that has caught me and moved me; it is only that I h ave
fallen in love with his unhappiness, I suppose . . . .
As for Mrs. Kaburagi, she was moved by the warmth of atten­
tion shown her by Yuichi. With most men she quickly surmised
that their kindnesses were for their own benefit; only Yuichi
showed her kindnesses she could not help believing were
genuine.
Yuichi, on the other hand, felt embarrassed by the rashness
with which he had brought out the handkerchief. He felt he had
been insincere. It was as if he were becoming sober after a
period of drunkenness and was now struck by the thought that
his words and actions might be taken as flirtatious. The habit of
reflection had at last reconciled him with his unhappy self. His
eyes darkened, as usual. Shunsuke noticed it and felt relieved at
the joy of seeing something to which he had been accustomed.
Not only that, it was as if the luminous youthfulness Yuichi had
exhibited earlier was all an artifice designed to help Shunsuke
achieve his objectives. The look the old man now turned toward
Yuichi had in it a mixture of gratefulness and of understanding.
The original mistake occurred when Mrs. Kaburagi visited the

[ 63 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

Hinoki home a n hour before the time a t which Shunsuke had

invited her. That hour which Shunsuke had set aside to find out
how things had gone with Yuichi she purloined in her usual
offhand way, greeting Shunsuke nonchalantly with, "I didn't
have anything to do, so I thought I'd come over right away."
Two or three d ays later she would write Shunsuke a letter.
One line would bring a smile to his face : "At any rate, that
young man was elegant."
This was not the reaction he expected from a well-bred lady
who admired wildness. Was Yuichi frail? Never. It seemed
likely, therefore, that what she wanted to convey with the word
"elegant" was her objection to what she perceived as a courteous
indifference in the way Yuichi treated women.
Now, away from his women, alone with Shunsuke, he was
obviously relaxed. Shunsuke, long accustomed to stiff, polite
young admirers, enjoyed watching him . This was what Shun­
suke would have called elegant.
When it came time for Mrs. Kaburagi and Yuichi to go home,
Shunsuke suggested that Yuichi come with him to his study to
help find the book he h ad promised to lend him. Yuichi looked
mystified for a moment; Shunsuke winked. It was his method of
getting the youth away from the woman without being rude.
Mrs. Kaburagi had never read so much as one book.
The sixteen-by-sixteen-foot library, whose windows were fes­
tooned outside with masses of the hard, armor-like magnolia
leaves, was next to the study wherein the diary once filled with
h atred and the works overflowing with magnanimity were still
being turned out. Few people were ever admitted here.
The beautiful youth followed unconcernedly into the very
heart of the odor of mildew and leather and dust and gold foil.
Shunsuke felt that even the most important works of his large
and imposing collection were blushing in shame. Before life
itself, before this gleaming, living work of art, most of his works
seemed useless and therefore embarrassing.
The gold on the covers and spines of his specially bound
c ollected works had not lost its brightness, but the gold on the
cropped edges of the assembled pages of expensive paper almost
reflected the features of a human being. When the young man
took out one of these works, Shunsuke felt as if the deathly odor
of the accumulated documents was purified by the youthful face
 The First Steps Toward Salvation

in the shadow of this great quantity of pages.

"Do you know of anything in the Japanese Middle Ages like
the worship of the Virgin Mary in European medievalism?"
Shunsuke asked. Taking it for granted that the answer would be
negative he continued : "It was a worship of the catamite. It was
a time when the catamite was given the seat of honor at the
banquet and was the first to receive the Lord's sake cup. I have a
reproduction of an interesting and esoteric book of that period."
Shunsuke took a manuscript of slender Japanese binding from
the shelf at hand and showed it to Yuichi. "I had a copy made
from a book in the Eizan library."
Yuichi couldn't read the characters on the cover-"Chigo­
kanjo"-and he asked the old man about them. " 'Chigokanjo;
the Anointment of the Catamite, that is. This book is divided into
the Anointment of the Catamite and The Mysteries of the &eat
Cult of Catamite Worship, with the name Eshin under the title
The Mysteries of the Great Cult of Catamite Worship, but of
course that is a barefaced lie. He lived in a different time. What
I want you to read is a section of The Mysteries of the Great
Cult of Catamite Worship that goes into detail concerning the
miraculous ceremony of the caress. What subtle technical termi­
nology indeed ! The organ of the boy that was loved became the
'Flower of the Law,' the organ of the man loving him was called
the 'Fire of Darkness.' What I'd like you to understand is this
idea of the Anointment of the Catamite /"
He nervously riffled the pages with his aged fingers. He read
one line aloud : " 'Thy body is the deep seat of holiness, the an­
cient Tathagata. Thou art come into this world to save the multi­
tude.'
"The word 'thy' here," said Shunsuke, "shows that a child i s
being addressed. 'From today forward w e shall add the charac­
ter Maru to your name, and you shall be called so-and-so Maru.'
Mter the naming ceremony, it was customary to recite that mys­
tical phrase of praise and admonition. However"-Shunsuke's
laugh had a tinge of irony-"let's talk about how your first step
toward salvation has gone. It's a success, it seems.''
For a moment Yuichi failed to understand.
"When Mrs. Kaburagi sees a man who interests her, it is said
that within a week something happens. That's the truth. There
are countless instances. The intriguing thing, however, is that

[ 6J ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

even if a man whom she is not interested in pursues her,

something will come just that close to happening. At the last
critical stage, though, there is a certain fearful contrivance. I got
caught by it. In order not to disturb your illusions about this
lady, I won't tell you what it is. Just wait a week and you and
she will come to a critical moment. But you will cleverly escape
-of course, with my help. And let another week go by. There
are all kinds of ways to tantalize her so that she won't give you
up. Just let another week go by. Then you will achieve a terrific
power over that woman. In short, you will take my place and
save her."
"But she's someone else's wife," said Yuichi innocently.
"That's just what she says. 'I am someone else's wife,' she
announces. She doesn't appear to be separated from her hus­
band, but she isn't faithful to him either. Whether her failing is
her inconstancy or her eternal fidelity to a husband like hers, a
third party simply cannot distinguish."
When Yuichi laughed at this irony, Shunsuke teased him with
the comment that he was laughing like a happy fool today. Since
marriage had worked out well, surely he now liked women, the
highly suspicious man probed. Yuichi told him what had
happened. Shunsuke was amazed.
As the two descended to the Japanese room, Mrs. Kaburagi
was whiling away the time by smoking. Her cigarette was held
tightly between her fingers as she pondered. She was thinking
about the large young hands she had just been looking at. He
had told her stories about sports-about swimming and high
jumping, both solitary sports. If the word solitary was not right,
they were at least sports that could be participated in without a
partner. Why did this youth choose such sports? And what about
dancing? Suddenly Mrs. Kaburagi felt a pang of jealousy. She
had thought of Yasuko. She forced herself to concentrate upon
the solitary image of Yuichi.
Somehow, she thought, that man is like a wolf that avoids the
pack. It is not that he is like a renegade ; surely the energy locked
up inside him is not rebellious or subversive. What is he made
for? Surely for some intense, vast, deep, absolutely dark, useless
something. Beneath that man's clear, transparent laughter, a
metallic despair lies submerged like a weight.
That simple, warm palm, enfolding security like a farmhouse
chair . . . I'd like to sit on it. Those brows like narrow-bladed

[ 66 ]
 The First Steps Toward Salvation

swords . . . his double-breasted blue suit becomes him. His

movements, like those of a graceful, alert wolf when he senses
danger, twists his body and points up his ears. That innocent
drunkenness ! As a sign that he couldn't drink any more, he put
his hand over his cup, and as he twisted his face at an angle and
looked down drunkenly, his glossy hair fell right over his eyes. I
felt the wild urge to reach out and grasp that hair. I wanted his
hair oil to cling to my hand. My hand seemed as if it would
suddenly reach out . . .
She lifted the languid gaze that had become second nature to
her toward the two men who had just come down. On the table
stood a bowl filled with grapes and half-filled coffee cups. She
felt too independent to say, "You have been away a long
time," or "Would you help me get home ? '' or words of that sort.
So she greeted the two of them without a word.
Yuichi looked at the solitary figure of the woman so engulfed
by rumor. He felt for some reason that this woman and he were
doubles . With nimble fingers she stubbed out her cigarette in the
tray, peered a moment in the mirror in her handbag, and stood
up. When she left, Yuichi followed her.
The woman's actions amazed Yuichi. She never said a word to
him. She took the liberty of calling a cab; she took the liberty of
ordering it to the Ginza; she took the liberty of escorting him to
a bar; she took the liberty of entertaining him with the help of
the waitresses; and she took the liberty of escorting him back
toward his home.
At the bar, she deliberately took a seat apart from him and
stared at him as he sat in the midst of a swarm of women.
Unused to a place like this, unused also to his suit, Yuichi now
and then, with a charming gesture, pulled from his coat sleeves
the white cuffs that kept hiding themselves . Mrs. Kaburagi
enjoyed it greatly.
In the narrow space between the chairs, the two danced for
the first time. Under a palm in the corner of the bar, the hired
musicians played. Dance that threaded its way through the
chairs, dance that threaded its way through the cigarette smoke
and the endless laughter of the drunks . . . the woman touched
the back of Yuichi's neck with her fingers. Her fingers brushed
against his hair, tough as summer grass. She lifted her eyes.
Yuichi's eyes were turned away. She was excited by that. For a
long time she sought those haughty eyes that never would look
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

at a woman unless she fell o n her knees . . . .

When a week had gone by he had received no word from her.
Shunsuke, who had got that elegant note two or three days later,
heard of this miscalculation from Yuichi and was appalled. On
the eighth day, however, Yuichi received a long letter from her.

[ 68 ]
 CHAPTER 6

THE VEXATIONS
OF WOMANHOOD

MRS. KAB URAGI looked at her husband beside her. Not once
in the past ten years had she slept with him. What he did,
nobody knew, least of all his wife.
The income of the Kaburagi household was the natural result
of his laziness and his villainy. He was a member of the board of
directors of the Racing Society. He was a member of the Council
for the Protection of Natural Wonders. He was the president of
the Far East Marine Products Corporation, which produced
moray leather for handbags. He was the titular head of a dress­
making school. On the side he speculated in dollars. When his
funds ran short, he took advantage of harmless suckers like
Shunsuke and practiced some gentlemanly villainy. To him it
was a kind of sport. From his wife's foreign lovers he exacted
consolation money on a sliding scale. Some who feared scandal,
like a certain buyer, produced 2oo,ooo yen without being asked.
The love that joined this couple together was a model of con­
nubial affection; it was the love of partners in crime. The sexual
loathing in which she held her husband was an old story. Her
present transparent hatred born of worn-out sexuality was no
more than the tightly knotted bond of criminals. Since chicanery
constantly isolated them, it was necessary that they live together
as they lived in air, by random, long-term habit. Nevertheless, at
the bottom of their hearts the two longed to be divorced. The
reason they had not yet managed to break apart was only that
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

they both wished to do so. For the most part divorce occurs only
when one side does not want it.
The former Count Kaburagi always labored to maintain his
fine complexion. His too meticulously groomed face and mus­
tache gave the unwitting impression of man-made filth. His som­
nolent eyes moved restlessly under their double lids. His cheek
rippled now and then like water in the wind, so he was in the
habit of clutching the skin of his smooth cheek with a white
hand. He prattled to his acquaintances with a cloying aloofness.
When he addressed people he did not know well, his high and
mighty attitude put them off.
Mrs. Kaburagi looked at her husband again. It was a bad
habit. She never looked at his face. When she was thinking,
when she was attacked by boredom, when she was visited by
disgust, she looked at her husband as an invalid stares at a
wasted hand. One blockhead who noticed this look, however,
started the rumor that she was still as crazy about her husband
as ever.
They were in the lounge that gave off the ballroom of the
Industrial Club. Five hundred members of The Monthly Charity
Ball Society were gathered there. In accordance with the false
splendor of the occasion, Mrs. Kaburagi wore over the bodice of
her white chiffon evening gown a necklace of imitation pearls.
She had invited Yuichi and his wife to the ball. In the bulky
letter that accompanied the two tickets were ten or so sheets of
blank paper. She wondered just how he must have reacted on
seeing those blank pages. He would not have known that she
had inserted in the envelope the same number of sheets that
made up the passionate letter she had written first and then
burned.
Mrs. Kaburagi was an impetuous woman. She did not believe
in the vexations of womankind. Like the heroine of Sade's novel
juliet, who it was predicted would come to no good end, thanks
to the indolence of vice, she unfortunately arrived at the opinion
that she was somehow loafing on the job since that uneventful
evening spent with Yuichi. She was, in fact, indignant. She had
wasted so many hours with that boring young man. Not only
that, she rationalized that her laziness was to be ascribed to the
fact that Yuichi was quite deficient in charm. This way of think­
ing set her free to some extent. She was shocked to realize,

[ 70 ]
 Tlie Vexations of Womanhood

though, that all the other men of the world seemed to have lost
their charm.
When we fall in love we are filled with the sense of how
defenseless human beings are , and we tremble at the daily exist­
ence we have led in blissful obliviousness until this time. For this
reason people are occasionally made virtuous by love.
As the world sees it, Mrs. Kaburagi was almost old enough to
be Yuichi's mother. Perhaps for this reason she was conscious
that Yuichi might be held back by the taboo against love be­
tween mother and son. She thought of Yuichi in the same way
the world's women might think of their dead sons. Were not
these symptoms evidence that her intuition had perceived in his
haughty eyes how impossible were her wishes and that she had
fallen in love with that impossibility?
Mrs. Kaburagi, proud that she never dreamed about men, saw
in her dreams the innocent lips of Yuichi speaking and shaping
themselves as if in complaint. She interpreted those dreams to
mean that she was to be unlucky. For the first time she felt the
need to protect herself.
This was the only reason that this woman, who had the repu­
tation of becoming sexually intimate with any man within a
week's time, h:1d accorded Yuichi such exceptional treatment. In
the effort to forget him, she had made up her mind not to see
him. On a whim, she wrote him a long letter she had no
intention of mailing. She wrote it with a smile on her face,
stringing together half-jesting, seductive phrases. When she read
it over, her hand began to tremble. Afraid to read more, she
struck a match and set fire to the pages. They flamed up more
violently than she had expected, so she hastily threw open the
window and cast them into the rain in the garden below.
The flaming letter fell halfway on the baked e arth under the
eaves and halfway in a puddle. It burned for a while longer-it
seemed a long, long time. For some reason or other she put her
hand to her hair. A white substance carne away on her fingertips.
The fine ash from the burning paper had tinged her hair as does
remorse.
Rain ? she wondered . . . the music had stopped while the
bands changed. The sound of countless approaching feet ad­
vanced like rain. Through the wide-open doors leading to the
balcony, one had a quite ordinary view of a city evening-the

[ 7I ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

starlit sky and the sprinkle of lights from the windows of tall
buildings. The white shoulders of crowds of women, warmed by
dancing and wine despite the night air, moved smoothly and
imperturbably back and forth.
"It's young Minami. Mr. and Mrs. Min ami , over there," said
Mr. Kaburagi. His wife picked them out at the congested thresh­
old where they stood scanning the lounge .
"I invited them," she said. Yasuko led the way as they
threaded through the crowd and approached the table. Mrs.
Kaburagi greeted them with perfect composure. When she had
seen Yuichi without Yasuko, she had felt jealousy toward her.
Why she breathed easier when Yasuko stood beside him, Mrs.
Kaburagi could not explain.
She barely looked toward Yuichi. She directed Yasuko to the
chair beside her and praised her charming couture.
Yasuko had secured the imported cloth cheaply from the buy­
ing office of her father's department store and had ordered it
early for her fall wardrobe. Her evening gown was of an ivory­
colored taffeta. The billowing skirt did justice to the effect of the
stiff, cold, voluminous taffeta, on which the grain of shifting
light flowed and opened up its quiet, silver, dead, long, slender
eyes. Color was provided by a cattleya pinned to her bodice. The
faint yellow, pink, and purple velum, surrounded by violet
petals, imparted the coquetry and shyness peculiar to members
of the orchid family. From her necklace of little Indian nuts
strung on a yellow gold chain, from her loose lavender elbow­
length gloves, from the orchid on her bodice, the fresh odor of
perfume like the air after a rain wafted its charms.
Yuichi was shocked that Mrs. Kaburagi had not looked at him
once. He greeted the count. The count, whose eyes were fairly
light for a Japanese, greeted Yuichi as if he were reviewing
troops.
The music began. There were not enough chairs at the table.
Young people from the other tables had taken away all those not
in use. Someone had to stand. Naturally Yuichi stood, sipping at
the highball Kaburagi had ordered for him. The two women had
creme de cacao.
The music overflowed from the ballroom; like a mist it
pervaded the hall and the lounge, restricting the conversation of
the guests. The four said nothing for a time. Suddenly Mrs.
Kaburagi stood up.

[ 72 ]
 The Vexations of Womanhood

"Oh, I'm sorry; there you are standing up alone. Shall we

dance?"
Count Kaburagi languidly shook his head. He was amazed
that his wife could propose such a thing. They never danced at
these dances.
Her invitation was fairly clearly directed to her husband, but
Yuichi noticed that her husband refused as a matter of course.
He could .only surmise that Mrs. Kaburagi must h ave anticipated
that refusal. Must he not out of politeness immediately ask her
himself? It was clear that she wished to dance with him. Per­
plexed, he looked toward Yasuko. Her decision was polite but
childish : "That's too bad. Let's us dance."
Yasuko nodded fo Mrs. Kaburagi , placed her bag on the chair
and stood up. Yuichi turned his back to the chair beside which
Mrs. Kaburagi was standing, and for no reason grasped the back
of it with both hands. As Mrs. Kaburagi sat down again her back
lightly pressed against his fingertips and held him thus for an
instant against the back of the chair. Yasuko didn't observe it.
The two made their way through the crowd toward the dance
floor.
"Mrs. Kaburagi has changed lately. She has never been sub­
dued like that," Yasuko said. Yuichi remained silent.
He knew that Mrs. Kaburagi was w atching him without
expression from a distance as he danced, almost as if escorting
him, just as she had once done in the bar.
Yuichi exercised great c are not to crush the orchid, and they
danced somewhat apart. Yasuko felt that she was to blame ;
Yuichi was grateful for the obstacle. When he thought, however,
of the manly joy of crushing that high-priced flower with his
chest, the ardor of that thought swiftly darkened his heart.
When an act committed without passion cost so little, should he
restrain himself out of the false consideration that people watch­
ing might consider him decorous and parsimonious? To crush
that flower when he felt no passion-by what code was it
wrong? While he pondered, the great, lovely flower stood
proudly between them, and the brutish idea of destroying it
grew into a sense of duty.
The center of the dance floor was extremely crowded. Lovers
in great numbers striving to bring their bodies close to one an­
other gave themselves the pretext of doing so by huddling here in
increasing masses. As a swimmer cuts the water with his chest,

[ 73 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

Yuichi cut through the top of Yasuko's flower during the chasse.
Yasuko moved nervously in order to spare the orchid. This natu­
ral womanly attitude of preferring to preserve her flower to
dancing with her husband's arms tight around her simplified
things for Yuichi.
If that was the way she was going to act, Yuichi was entirely
willing to play the part of the passionate husband. The tempo of
the music was fast, and so the young man, his head filled with
his unhappy mad notion, feverishly pulled his wife hard against
him. Yasuko had no time to resist. Mercilessly crushed, the
orchid drooped.
In many ways, however, Yuichi's impulse had a good effect.
Of course Yasuko felt happy about it after a time. She glared
accusingly at her husband and, like a soldier displaying his
medals, flaunted that broken flower and walked back to their
table with the steps of a little girl. "Oh , your cattleya has been
spoiled the first dance !" she hoped people would say.
When they got back to the table, Mrs. Kaburagi was laughing
and chatting with four or five friends around her. The count
yawned and drank in silence. Mrs . Kaburagi, even though she
surely noticed the crumpled flower, surprised Yasuko by saying
nothing about it.
She puffed at her long women's cigarette and studied the
crushed orchid dangling from Yasuko's breast.

As soon as he started dancing with Mrs. Kaburagi, Yuichi

said, candidly and eagerly : "Thank you for the tickets. There
was nothing in the letter, so I came with my wife. I hope that
was all right."
Mrs. Kaburagi avoided the question. "Wife, indeed. How
shocking ! That's not the proper word yet. Why don't you say
'Yasuko'?"
He was shocked that she used his wife's given name, but did
not know what to ma ke of it.
· Mrs. Kaburagi discovered once more that not only was Yui­
chi's dancing skillful, it was also light-footed and without frills.
Was it a vision-the youthful haughtiness she found so beautiful
each instant? Or his candor, was it a kind of abandon?
The usual men of the world, she thought, attract a woman

[ 74 ]
 The Vexations of Womanhood

with the text of a page. This young man attracts with its mar­
gins. I wonder where he learned the technique.
Mter a time Yuichi asked the reason for the blank sheets in
the letter. The unsuspecting innocence of his query now caused
her embarrassment.
"That was nothing. I was just too lazy to write. Actually there
were at the time twelve or thirteen pages of things I wanted to
say to you."
Yuichi felt that her nonchalant reply was an evasion.
What bothered him really was that the letter carne on the
eighth day. The one-week limit Shunsuke had mentioned was to
be regarded as the mark of success or failure in this test. At the
end of the seventh day, when nothing had happened, his self­
respect was considerably wounded. The self-confidence he had
acquired through Shunsuke's encouragement was gone. Al­
though it was certain that he did not love her, he had never
before wanted someone to love him so much. That day he almost
suspected that he was in love with Mrs. Kaburagi.
The blank letter made him wonder. The two tickets she had
enclosed because somehow she feared his reaction if she asked
him without also asking Yasuko made him wonder all the more.
When he phoned Shunsuke, whose curiosity would carry him to
the limits of self-sacrifice, he promised that he would go to the
ball, though not to dance.
Had Shunsuke arrived?
When they returned to their seats, bus boys were already
bringing a number of chairs, and ten or more men and women
were gathered around Shunsuke. He saw Yuichi and smiled. It
was the smile of a friend.
Mrs. Kaburagi was amazed at seeing Shunsuke, but those who
knew him, besides being amazed, were soon exchanging all
kinds of rumors. This was the first time Shunsuke Hinoki had
ever appeared at the Monthly Ball. Who had the power to get
him to invade this strange place? Only one who did not know
what was going on could ask that question. Sensitivity to out-of­
the-way places is a talent essential to the novelist, though the
intrusion of his talent into the center of activity was something
Shunsuke avoided.
Yasuko, heady with wine, to which she was not accustomed,
innocently babbled something about Yuichi. "Yuchan has been
getting to be pretty vain lately. He bought a comb and he keeps

[ 75 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

it in his inside pocket. I don't know how many times he combs

his hair. I'm afraid he'll soon be bald."
Everyone commented agreeably on Yasuko's influence on him,
but Yuichi, laughing good-naturedly, pondered on the implica­
tion of her words. His purchase of the comb, indeed, was asso­
ciated with a habit he had acquired without realizing it. Even
during boring college lectures, he would at times unconsciously
take out his comb and groom his hair. Now, before all these
people, Yasuko's words made him aware for the first time that he
had changed to the extent of carrying a comb concealed in his
inside pocket. He saw that as a dog c arries a bone from another
house to his own, so this insignificant comb was the first thing he
had carried home from that alien world.
Nevertheless, it was natural that Yasuko would think the
metamorphosis of her husband so soon after the wedding was
related entirely to herself. There is a game in which one adds
thirty or forty strokes to a picture and changes the meaning of
the picture until gradually a quite different image emerges ; if
one happens to look at it after adding only the first three or four
strokes he will see only a meaningless triangle or rectangle. No
one can say that Yasuko was a fool.
Shunsuke could not ignore Yuichi's absent-mindedness.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly. "You h ave the appearance of
one troubled by love."
Yuichi arose and went out in the h all. Shunsuke followed him
casually. "Have you noticed the faraway look in Mrs. Kaburagi's
eyes ?" he said. "What surprised me is that she has turned spirit­
ual. Perhaps this is the first time in her life she has ever been
connected with anything spiritual. It might be said further that
with you there has appeared another of the mysterious side
effects of love, a reaction produced by your very lack of spirit. It
h as gradually occurred to me that although you think you can
love women spiritually, that is not true. Human beings have no
such facility. You can't love women spiritually or physically. Just
as natural beauty reigns over mankind, by the same process you
rule over women in the complete absence of spirituality."
Shunsuke at this time was not conscious of the fact that he
was looking at Yuichi as no more than a spiritual puppet of
Shunsuke himself. That was, nevertheless, in the way of being
the highest esthetic praise.

[ 76 ]
 The Vexations of Womanhood

"People always love best those for whom they are no match.
That's particularly true of women. Today's Mrs. Kaburagi,
thanks to love, loo�s as if she has completely forgotten her phys­
ical charm. This was something that, until yesterday, she found
harder to forget than any man you can name."
"But the interval of one week has expired, hasn't it?"
"An exceptional favor. The first exception I've seen. In the first
place, she can't hide her love. Did you notice before, when you
two returned to your seats, how she picked up the Saga brocade
opera bag-embroidered with peacocks, no less-from the chair
where she had left it and placed it on the table? She looked at
the table top carefully and meticulously put it down. And she
coolly set it right in the middle of a puddle of beer ! Anybody
who says this woman usually gets excited at a dance is mis­
taken."
Shunsuke offered Yuichi a cigarette and went on : "This busi­
ness will take a long time, I think. For the time being you can
rest easy; your charms have had their effect and now you can
relax, no matter what. First, you have the usual protection you
get from being married, and newly married at that. But really I
have no wish to protect you. Wait a minute. There's someone
else I want you to meet."
Shunsuke glanced around. He was looking for Kyoko Hodaka,
who had thrown him over, just as Yasuko had, and married more
than ten years ago.
Yuichi suddenly looked at Shunsuke as if he didn't know him.
Here in the middle of this young and splendid world, Shunsuke
looked like a dead man standing in search of something.
Shunsuke's cheeks were leaden-colored. His eyes had become
dull, and between his black lips the chalkiness of his too-even
false teeth gleamed unnaturally, like the white wall of a ruined
castle. Yuichi's emotions, however, belonged to Shunsuke. Shun­
suke knew what he was doing, for when he saw Yuichi he de­
cided to crawl, very much alive, into his coffin. When he was
involved in creation the world seemed clear, and men's affairs
transparent, because in such moments he was undoubtedly dead.
Shunsuke's many foolish actions were nothing more than the
products of the clumsy efforts of a dead man trying again and
again to return to the mainstream of life. As he did in his works,
he was taking Yuichi's body and populating it with his spirit, and

[ 77 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

with it he h a d decided t o cure all his gloomy jealousies and

grudges. He sought perfect rehabilitation. In short, he wished to
be reborn in the world as a corpse.
When one looks at the world with a dead man's eyes, with
what clarity the sublunary world bares its activities ! With what
accuracy one can see through the loves of one's fellows I In this
unprejudiced free condition, how the world becomes trans­
formed into a little glass mechanism.
Within this dead man ugly with age, however, certain nagging
things were in motion, battering at his self-imposed restraints. At
the time he heard that Yuichi had nothing to report after seven
days, within his fear of failure and in his confusion over missing
the mark he took a certain slight joy. It had the same root as the
unhappy p ain that seized his heart when at that earlier time Mrs.
Kaburagi's face displayed the unmistakable signs of love.
Shunsuke got a glimpse of Kyoko. A publisher and his wife
approached him, however, and their polite effusions prevented
him from reaching Kyoko's side.
Kyoko was the beautiful woman in Chinese dress beside a
desk heaped with raffle prizes to be given out during the enter­
tainment. She was engaged in a lively, indeed effervescent, con­
versation with an elderly white-haired foreigner. Whenever she
laughed, her lips softly swelled and contracted like waves
around her white teeth .
Her Chinese dress was satin, with a dragon pattern embossed
on a white background. The collar clasp and buttons were gold ;
the dancing slippers under the trailing skirt were gold also. Her
jade earrings trembled, each a flash of green.
When Shunsuke tried to approach her, another middle-aged
woman in evening gown detained him. She kept bringing up
artistic topics, but Shunsuke extricated himself without so much
as paying her the courtesy of being impolite. As she walked off,
Shunsuke's gaze followed her retreating figure. On her plain,
naked back, the unhealthy hue of a grindstone, her shoulder
blades protruded gray under a plaster of white powder. Why,
Shunsuke wondered, do those people always talk about art just
to cover up their ugliness and their offenses against the world?
Yuichi approached uncomfortably. Shunsuke noticed that
Kyoko continued talking with the foreigner, so he motioned
Yuichi over with his eyes and spoke to him softly.
"That woman. She's a pretty, cheerful, and ostentatiously vir-
 The Vexations of Womanhood

tuous wife, but lately she and her husband have not been hitting
it off too well. Someone told me that they came here separately.
I'm going to introduce you to her as having come alone, too,
without your wife. Now you must dance five numbers in a row
with her. No more, no less. When you've finished those and
leave, tell her apologetically that your wife actually came but
that you lied to her because you thought if you told the truth she
wouldn't have danced all this time with you. Put all the senti­
ment you can into it.
"She'll forgive you. The impression you make is a miracle,
surely. Also, it's wise to flatter her a little. The most effective
flattery is to tell her she has a beautiful smile. When she got out
of girls' school, her gums used to show when she smiled. It was
pretty funny. About ten years after that, though-years filled
with practice-she had trained herself so that no matter how she
laughed she never showed her gums. Praise her j ade earrings.
She thinks they set off the white skin on the nape of her neck.
"Don't pay her erotic compliments. She likes clean men. And
when it comes to that, ifs because her breasts are small. That
lovely bosom is a contrivance. It's made of fine sponge. Deceiv­
ing men's eyes seems to be good form among beautiful things,
isn't it?"
The foreign gentleman engaged himself in conversation with a
group of other foreigners, so Shunsuke came forward and pre­
sented Yuichi to her.
"This is Minami. He asked me to introduce him to you long
ago but I never had the opportunity. He's still a student. What's
more he's married-unfortunately."
"Really? And so young? Everybody's getting married early
these days."
Shunsuke went on in that vein. "He asked me for an introduc­
tion to you before he got married, and now Minami is pretty
upset with me about it; but he told me that he saw you for the
first time at the earliest party of the fall season."
"If so"-Yuichi watched Shunsuke's face while Kyoko hesi­
tated over her words-"if so, he's only been married three weeks.
That party was held on a hot day, isn't that so?"
"That's when he saw you for the first time," Shunsuke said, in
a peremptory tone, "and that's when this man was seized with a
childish whim. Before he got married he wanted to dance five
numbers in a row with you. That's right, with you ! Don't blush.

[ 79 J
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

If h e could accomplish that, he felt h e could get married without

regret. Finally he married his fiancee without fulfilling his ambi­
tion. But he has never got over it, and so he has been after me
now. He has been saying I have forgotten I know you. Today,
you see, he has come here alone, without his wife. Won't you
grant him his wish? If you dance five numbers in succession
with him he'll be content."
"That's an easy request," Kyoko said, consenting magnani­
mously in a tone that concealed the riot of her emotions, "but I
hope you haven't chosen the wrong partner."
"All right, Yuichi, dance I" Shunsuke urged, conscious of the
people in the lounge. The couple walked into the dimness of the
ballroom.
At a table in a corner of the lounge Shunsuke was stopped by
a friend and his family. There he sat in a chair that offered a
direct view of Mrs. Kaburagi, three or four tables off. Just then
he saw Mrs. Kaburagi return to her table from the ballroom,
escorted by a foreigner. She nodded to Yasuko and sat down
facing her. The picture these two unhappy women made, when
seen from a distance, had all the elegance of an old tale. There
was now no cattleya on Yasuko's breast. The woman in the black
dress and the woman in ivory, with nothing to do, exchanged
silent glances.
The unhappiness of other people when viewed through a win­
dow is more beautiful than when viewed from within. This is
because unhappiness seldom crosses the window frame and
springs upon us.
The despotism of music reached out to the gathered throng;
its discipline worked. The music, like a deep-seated sense of
fatigue, moved them indefatigably. In the flow of this music
there was a kind of vacuum that the music could not infringe
upon. Through the window of that vacuum Shunsuke now felt,
he watched Yasuko and Mrs. Kaburagi.
At the table where a family sat, with Shunsuke, the youngsters
were discussing the movies. The eldest son, who had been with
the Special Attack Forces, was dressed in a becoming suit and
was explaining to his fiancee the difference between the auto­
mobile motor and the airplane engine. His mother was telling a
friend about an ingenious widow who took orders for dye­
ing rugs and made stylish shopping bags. The friend was the
wife of a former Zaibatsu who, since her only son had died in

[ 8o ]
 The Vexations of ·womanhood

the war, had immersed herself in psychic phenomena. The head

of the family was insistently fiJling Shunsuke's beer glass and
repeating : "How about that? My family could be made into a
novel, couldn't it? If you took it and described it just as it is-as
you can see, beginning with my wife we're a fine set of charac­
ters."
Shunsuke smiled faintly and looked around at this run-of-the­
mill family. Unfortunately, the father's pride was misguided.
There are many such families-families so much alike that there
is nothing they can do but read detective stories avidly in order
to cure themselves of the sickness of humdrum health.
He must get back to his own table. If he stayed away too long
people would suspect him of being in collusion with Yuichi.
When Shunsuke reached the table he found that Yasuko and
Mrs. Kaburagi had risen in response to requests to dance. He sat
down at the side of Kaburagi, who had been left alone.
Kaburagi did not ask where he had been. He silently poured
Shunsuke a highball and said : "Where did Minami go?''
"Oh, I saw him in the hall a little while ago."
"Is that so?''
Kaburagi folded his hands on the table and stared at the tips
of his index fingers, which he held up vertically.
"Look at this, won't you? They don't tremble at all, do they?"
he said, referring to his hands.
Shunsuke didn't answer but looked at his watch. He estimated
five numbers would take twenty minutes. Counting the time he
was in the hallway, that would be thirty minutes-not an inter­
val to be easily borne by a new wife who had come here to
dance with her husband.
Mter one dance number Mrs. Kaburagi and Yasuko came
back to the table. The two of them were rather pale. Both had
been forced by what they had seen to make an unhappy judg­
ment about themselves, and since they had reason not to discuss
it, they were left with little to say.
Yasuko was thinking of her husband, who bad just finished
two dances with a woman in a Chinese dress. She smiled at him
when they danced near, but perhaps because he didn't see her
Yuichi didn't smile back.
The jealousy and suspicion that had plagued Yasuko while
they were engaged and which led her to say to herself, "Yuichi
has another girl," were dispelled once they were married. To be

[ 81 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

more exact, she dispelled them herself with her newly gained
rationality.
Idly Yasuko fidgeted with her gloves-now holding them in
her hand, now drawing them on. Wearing gloves of itself gives a
person the look of being lost in thought.
Yes. Thanks to her newly acquired rationality, she had
cleansed herself of suspicion. Back there in K--, Yasuko had
been filled with anxiety and presentiments of misfortune by
Yuichi's melancholy. But when she thought about it at all after
their marriage, in her innocent girlish pride she held herself
responsible for everything and decided that the reason he had
lain awake worrying was her lack of responsiveness to his ad­
vances. Looked at in this way, those three nights of limitless
torture for Yuichi during which nothing happened were the first
evidence that he loved her. He was fighting against desire; there
was no doubt about it.
With his extraordinarily strong self-respect, he certainly had
feared rejection and froze. She felt she had won the proud privi­
lege of ridiculing, of despising her former childish suspicion that
Yuichi had another girl friend while they were engaged. There
was, after all, no clearer proof of his purity than that he had
refrained from laying so much as a hand on the innocent girl
lying beside him silent as stone, her body rigid, for three nights
running.
Their first visit to her home was h appy. Yuichi seemed in
Yasuko's parents' eyes to be a completely endearing, conserva­
tive youth, and his future in her father's department store, where
he would be especially useful with women customers, was
assured.
He seemed to be a dutiful son, upright, and on top of that,
inclined to be careful of his reputation.
It was on the first day he went back to school after the wed­
ding that he had started to come home late, after dinner. He
could not get around treating some bad companions, was his
excuse. Yasuko did not need instruction from her deeply experi­
enced mother-in-law to tell her that this was the way it would be
with a newlywed husband and his friends . . .
Yasuko now took off the lavender gloves. Suddenly something
made her distinctly uneasy. She was horrified to see, right in
front of her, exactly like herself in a mirror, Mrs. Kaburagi,
wearing the same distraught look. Perhaps Yasuko's despair was

[ 82 ]
 The Vexations of Womanhood

a contagion caught from Mrs. Kaburagi's inexplicable melancholy.

Perhaps that's why I feel a certain kinship with this woman, she
thought. Before long both of them were invited to dance.
Yasuko saw that Yuichi was still dancing with the girl in the
Chinese dress. This time she looked past him without a smile.
Mrs. Kaburagi also observed the couple. She did not know the
woman. Mrs. Kaburagi's derisive spirit detested the outrageous
pretext of charity, a detestation she expressed in her imitation
pearls. She had never come to this dance before and so did not
know Kyoko, one of the organizers of the affair.
Yuichi finished the five dances as agreed.
Kyoko returned to the table occupied by her group , accompa­
nied by Yuichi, and introduced him. He was plainly fidgety,
because he had not yet made up his mind when it would be well
to confess to the lie that his wife had not come. Then a school
friend, a cheerful young man who had talked with him at the
Kaburagis' table, came by and, catching his eye, settled matters
by saying : "Oh, you deserter! Your wife has been sitting for the
longest time alone at that table."
Yuichi looked at Kyoko's face. She returned his look; then she
averted her eyes.
"Go, I humbly beg of you. The poor thing," she said. This
counsel, given courteously and in a quiet tone, made Yuichi tum
beet red with humiliation. Once in a while a sense of honor
serves in place of passion. Impelled by a vigor that surprised
himself, he ran to Kyoko's side.
"I want to talk to you," he said and led her to a corner. Kyoko
was filled with a cold fury; however, if Yuichi had been aware of
the weight of passion the fierceness of his actions indicated, he
would have known why this beautiful woman got up from her
chair and followed him as if she had surrendered. His black eyes
accentuating the impression of sincerity and with the air of one
deeply in love, Yuichi said : "I lied; I have no words to apologize
for it. I couldn't help it. I thought if I told the truth, you'd never
dance five numbers in a row with me."
Kyoko's eyes opened wide at his forthrightness. Moved almost
to tears out of the womanly generosity that makes for self­
sacrifice, she quickly forgave Yuichi, and while she watched his
retreating form hurrying off to the table where his wife waited,
this impressionable woman memorized the shape of his back
down to the tiniest wrinkle in his suit.
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

B ack where he had left them, Yuichi found Mrs. Kaburagi

exchanging jokes with the men with new-found hilarity and
Yasuko half-heartedly joining in, along with Shunsuke, who was
preparing to leave. Shunsuke wished at all costs to avoid a con­
frontation with Kyoko before these people. When he saw Yuichi
returning, therefore, he hastened his departure.
Yuichi felt uncomfortable there and offered to accompany
Sbunsuke as far as the stairs.
Shunsuke laughed with delight when he heard how Kyoko
had acted. He tapped Yuichi on the shoulder and said, "Tonight,
please forget about playing around with your boy. This is a
night when you had better do your husbandly duty and get your
wife in a good humor. Kyoko is going to meet you somewhere
again in a few days completely by accident. I'll let you know
when."
The old man gave him a youthful handshake. He descended
the red-carpeted staircase leading to the main exit, and on the
way put his hand in his pocket, where he felt something jab his
finger. It was an old-fashioned opal necktie pin. Earlier he bad
dropped by the Minami home in order to give Yuichi and his
wife a ride. They had already departed, but Yuichi's mother
invited this famous friend into the living room and courteously
gave him a memento of her dead husband.
Shunsuke happily accepted this gift from a bygone era. He
imagined the motherly sentiments she would probably pass on to
Yuichi later on : "When you give something like that away, you
can look at people with pride."
He looked at his finger. A drop of blood had congealed there
like a jewel. It bad been a long time since so much color had
appeared on his body. He was amazed at the trick of fate that
permitted an old person with kidney disease to do him so unwit­
ting a bodily injury just because she was a woman.
 CHAPTER 7

E N TR A N C E
TO THE S TAGE

IN THAT PLACE nobody asked Yuichi Minami his address or

his station. They called him "Yuchan." It was the place where h e
went t o meet "Eichan," who h a d drawn him the childish map.
It was an ordinary tea shop named Rudon's, opened after the
war on a corner of Yuraku Cho. Sometime later it became a club
for men of this persuasion. Men who didn't know what it was
came in there in groups, drank coffee, and left none the wiser.
The proprietor was a second-generation Eurasian, a small,
neat man of forty. Everyone called this clever businessman
Rudy. Yuichi started calling him Rudy the third time he visited
there, imitating Eichan.
Rudy had been around the Ginza area for twenty years. Be­
fore the war he had a place in West Ginza c alled the Blues. He
had girls there and two or three beautifuJ young waiters. Homo­
sexuals, therefore, came to Rudy's place from time to time.
The men who were in the know had the instinct of animals to
smell out their own kind, and as an ant is attracted to sugar, so
they did not miss a place that had the slightest sign that what
they were after was brewing there.
It is hard to believe, but not until after the war did Rudy
know that a secret world of this sort existed. He had a wife and
children, but when it came to other objects of affection , he felt
that nothing more than his own peculiar aberration existed. He
simply indulged a penchant for installing beautiful boys in his
restaurant. When he opened Rudon's in Yuraku Cho immedi-

[ 85 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

ately after the war, he arranged matters s o it was always possible

to see five or six such waiters there. Thus the place became very
popular among the people of that world and finally became a
kind of club.
When he realized this, Rudy refined his business tactics. He
recognized that when these men came here once to bring
warmth into their lonely lives they would never again succeed in
separating themselves from the place. He divided his guests into
two types : the young, charming, m agnetic guests, whose ap­
pearance there could bring him success; and the generous ,
wealthy guests drawn b y the magnetism o f the place to spend
money like fools. Rudy worked harder to take care of the mem­
bers of the first group, but once, when one of the regular young
guests was invited by one of the well-paying guests to go to a
hotel, and fled after going only as far as the hotel door, Yuichi
heard with his own ears Rudy's imprecations : "You're giving
Rudy a bad name, aren't you? All right. You just see if I ever
help you to meet any nice men now I"
It was said Rudy took two hours to put on his makeup every
morning. He too had the homosexual's peculiar public habit, not
to be condemned, of boastin g : "Men made eyes at me and em­
barrassed me." Rudy took i t for granted that men who gazed at
him were all homosexuals. Even kindergarten children, seeing
him on the street, must have turned around in amazement. This
man of forty wore circus suits; and his Ronald Colman mustache
changed its width and its direction with his mood whenever he
trimmed it.
The crowd got together as a rule at sundown. There were
always dance records on the restaurant jukebox-it was impor­
tant that private m atters not be noised around for all to hear.
When a flush, flashy guest had been served, Rudy would move
from the comer table, where he always stationed himself, to the
counter in order to look at the check. Then, in respectful tones
the proprietor himself would intone : "Your check, sir." With
such courtly practice, the guest had better be prepared to pay
double.
Whenever a man entered, all the guests would look up. The
man coming in would instantly be bathed in glances. Who could
guarantee that the ideal sought for for so long would not sud­
denly take shape and appear through that glass door? Much of
the time, however, the light in those glances suddenly faded and

[ 86 ]
 Entrance to the Stage

went out in disappointment. Appraisal ended in the first mo­

ment. When a young guest who knew nothing about the place
entered he would be startled to hear, if the jukebox happened to
be silent, appraisals of his person murmured at every t able.
"What's he? Not much," they would say, or, "That one ; he's been
rolled everywhere," or, "His nose is small ; probably his tool is
too," or, "I don't like the way his lower lip sticks out," or, "He
has good taste in neckties," or "His sex appeal, though, is, in
short, zero."
Every night these box seats looked out on the stage of an
empty night street on which some miraculous manifestation was
sure to be seen. Religious, one might call it, for it was not far
different. One might savor in purer, more direct form the atmo­
sphere of piety and expectation of miracles in the cigarette haze
of a homosexual club than in one of today's indifferent churches.
Spreading outside that glass door was their ideal society, a great
city conceived in accordance with their outlook. Like the many
roads that lead to and from Rome, so countless invisible streets
lead from individual beautiful youths scattered like stars in a
night sky to clubs like Rudy's.
According to Ellis, women are fascinated by male strength ,
but they have no opinions about male beauty. Insensitive almost
to the point of being blind, they have a discerning eye for male
beauty not greatly different from that of the normal male. Sensi­
tivity to the peculiar beauties of the male is the exclusive prop­
erty of the homosexual. The establishment of the system of male
beauty in Greek sculpture in the field of esthetics had to wait for
the advent of Winckelmann, who was a homosexual. When at
first the normal boy encounters the fever of homosexual glorifica­
tion (women are incapable of according to the male such fleshly
praise ) , he becomes transfigured into a dreamy Narcissus. Expa­
tiating on his own beauty, which has become the object of his
praise, he imagines an ideal image based on the esthetic ideas of
males in general and becomes a full-fledged homosexual. The
natural homosexual, on the other hand, cherishes these ideals
from infancy. His ideals are those true angels, undifferentiated
as to carnal or intellectual; they are akin to the ideal of the
Eastern theology which completed its religious carnality through
the so-<:alled Alexandrian purification.
The time when Yuichi was to meet Eichan was nine p.m., the
busiest hour at the place, and when he entered the door wearing
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

his maroon necktie with the collar of his n avy-blue trench coat
turned up, he was something of a miraculous advent . Although
he did not know it, in that moment he established his suprem­
acy. Yuichi's entrance on the stage would be a source of legend
at Rudon's for a long time to come.
That evening Eichan left his place early, and as soon as he
passed the door of Rudon's he said to his young friends : "I really
met a terrific one in the park day before yesterday. We spent a
little time together that night and I've never seen anyone so
pretty. He's coming soon; his name is Yuchan."
"How's his face?'' said Kimichan, who felt that no youth had a
face like his own; he wanted to find fault. Originally he had been
a bus boy at the Oasis Dance Hall. He wore a double-breasted,
emerald-green suit a foreigner had bought for him.
"How's his face? He has a manly, deep-cut face. His eyes are
sharp, his teeth are white and even, his profile is rather fierce.
And you should see his body! He's an athlete, sure."
"Eichan, if you get carried away you'll be ruined. How many
times did he do it in that little time?''
"Three times."
"Amazing ! I never heard of someone coming three times. You
end up in the sanitorium that way."
"He's really strong, though. How good he was in bed !" He
joined his hands together, then put the back of each hand
against his cheeks and postured coquettishly. The jukebox hap­
pened to be belting out a conga, and he leaped to his feet and
spun about in a wild dance.
"Well, Eichan, did you get taken?" said Rudy, who had been
eavesdropping. "And he's coming here? Who is he?"
"Now, now, the dirty old man gets into it right away!"
"If he's a nice boy, I'll treat you to a gin fizz," said Rudy,
whistling innocently.
"You want to bring him around with a gin fizz, don't you?"
said Kimichan. "If there's anything I hate it's a usurer."
The word "usurer" is part of the patois of this world. The idea
of selling one's body for money is at times transformed in this
way into the idea of selfish interest.
This was a good time at the place, and it was filled with
homosexuals who knew one another well. If an ordinary patron
came in the door, he would not notice a sign of anything differ­
ent except that there happened to be no women. There was an

[ 88 ]
 Entrance to the Stage

Iranian buyer and two or three other foreigners. There were

middle-aged men. There was an affectionate pair of youths of
about the same age. They would light their cigarettes, take a
drag, and then exchange them.
It is not true there was no sign. Someone once said that homo­
sexuals have on their faces a certain loneliness that will not
come off. Besides, in their glances flirtatiousness and the cold
stare of appraisal are combined. Although the coquettish looks
that women direct at the opposite sex and the appraising glances
they direct at their own sex h ave quite separate functions, with
the homosexual both are directed at one and the same person.
Kimichan and Eichan were invited to the Iranian's table as a
result of his whispering something in Rudy's ear.
"There, you've got a client," Rudy said, pushing them from
behind. Kimichan was quite reluctant about it. "He's a mad
foreigner; I can't bear him," he grumbled. When they got to the
table, he asked, in his normal voice : "I wonder if this man c an
speak Japanese."
"He doesn't look it."
"I wouldn't be surprised if he could, the way things are lately."
Recently the two had been invited to the table of a foreigner
and sang him a toast : "Harro, dahring blockhead. Harro, dab­
ring dirty old man," they sang in chorus, with the insulting
words in Japanese. The foreigner laughed : "Dirty boys and dirty
old men get along well together," he said in perfect Japanese.
Eichan was far from composed. His eyes moved repeatedly
toward the door that exposed the night street. He thought of
that fierce, sad profile, carved from rare alloys-the boy h ad the
feeling he had seen it on one of the foreign coins he had once
collected. He suspected that he had met its owner in an old tale.
Then the door was pushed open with youthful vigor. A surge
of refreshing night air poured in. All raised eyes toward the
door.

[ 8g ]
 CHAPTER 8

THE J UNGLE
OF S E N T I M E N T

UNIVERSAL BEAUTY had won all with the first cast.

Yuichi floated on desire. The look they gave him was like that
a woman feels when she passes among men and their eyes in­
stantly undress her down to the last stitch. Practiced appraisers'
eyes usually do not make mistakes. The gently sloping chest
Shunsuke saw back there in the spray, the slightly tapering,
chastely mature trunk, the long easy sinewy legs. When one took
these and added them to the matchless, pure, youthful, statu­
esque shoulders, the eyebrows like narrow blades, the melancholy
eyes, the truly boyish lips, the white, orderly, correct teeth , and
the beautiful head they composed, the potential lovely h armony
between what one saw and could not see seemed as perfect as a
product of the ratio of golden section. That perfect neck be­
longed to a perfect body. The scattered fragments of beauty
gave promise of a beautiful artistic restoration.
Even the normally carping critics at Rudon's were struck
dumb. Before their companions, or the boys who were serving
them, they refrained from putting into words the inexpressible
admiration they felt. Their eyes, however, were taking the most
beautiful visions of the countless young men they had caressed
and placing them beside the naked body of Yuichi they had just
sketched in their minds. There the vague shapes of the imagi­
nary youths, the warmth of their flesh, the odor of their bodies,
their voices, their kisses floated. But when these visions were
placed beside the naked form of Yuichi, they shyly stole away.

[ 90 ]
 The Jungle of Sentiment

Their beauty was captive in the castle of individuality; Yuichi's

beauty, overriding individuality, gleamed resplendent.
Their arms folded, they sat in silence, their chairs tilted
against the walls in the dim distance . Conscious of the weight of
those concentrated glances, he stood with downcast eyes. Thus
his beauty took on the semblance of the innocent standard­
bearer at the head of the regiment.
Eichan left the foreigners' table guiltily, went to Yuichi's side,
and touched his shoulder. "Let's sit down," Yuichi said. They sat
facing each other, conscious of more glances than they dared
face. They ordered cake. Unself·consciously Yuichi opened his
mouth wide and stuffed it \vith a huge piece of shortcake. Straw­
berries and cream were demolished by those white rows of teeth .
To the boy watching, it was as if his own body were being
swallowed to his boundless enjoyment.
"Eich an, won't you introduce the master ? " Rudy said . The boy
couldn't help but introduce them. "How do you do? We hope
you'll come here often. All of our clientele are fine people," said
the proprietor, as if he were stroking a cat.
After a time Eichan left for the men's room. Just then a flash­
ily dressed middle-aged man came all the way over to the cash­
ier's table to pay his check. In his face a certain indefinable
childishness, a pent-up childishness , was evident. In the thick­
ness of his eyelids especially, and in the region of his cheeks, the
air of infancy was heavy. Bloated, isn't he? thought Yuichi. The
man acted as if intoxicated. The distinctness of the raw lust that
gleamed in his eyes contrasted strongly with his assumed role. As
if he were groping for the wall, he let his hand fall on the youth's
shoulder.
"Oh, excuse me," he said, removing his hand. Between these
words and the act of taking away his hand, however, in that
instant's hesitation, there was what could be called a kind of
groping. The somewhat unpleasant hiatus between word and
action left an imprint on the youth's shoulder like a muscular
stiffness. The older man looked toward the youth a second time;
then, like a fox in flight, he broke off his gaze and departed.
When Eichan returned from the men's room, Yuichi told him
what had happened. The boy was dumfounded : "What? Al­
ready? That's quick ! That fellow was making a pass at you !"
To Yuichi, this staid restaurant was rather like the park; he
was shocked at how soon it went through its formalities.

[ 9I ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

A t that moment a small, dark, dimpled youth entered, arm in

ann with a handsome foreigner. The youth was a ballet dancer
who had recently been given a wide audience ; his companion
was his teacher, a Frenchman. They had met just after the war.
The youth's reputation at present was largely due to the work of
that teacher. For several years the sunny, golden-haired French­
man had shared his quarters with this companion, twenty years
his junior. It was rumored that the Frenchman had recently
fallen victim to a terrible whim, which came on him while
drunk. He climbed the roof and tried to lay an egg.
This golden-haired chicken instructed his protege to stand be­
neath the eaves with a basket and then asked all his invited
guests to step out into the moonlit garden. Then he climbed a
ladder and went out on the roof, bent over like a chicken. He
turned up his tail, flapped his wings and cackled and cackled.
As he did so, an egg dropped into the basket. Then he flapped
again and cackled. A second egg fell.
His guests held their sides with laughter. Then they clapped
their hands in applause. When the scene ended, however, and
the host escorted them to the door, they s aw a fifth egg, which
he had forgotten to lay, rolling from the cuff of his trousers and
splash its contents on the stone step. This chicken's cloaca was
c apable of holding five eggs-no mean feat.
When Yuichi heard the story he laughed and laughed. Then,
as if someone had frowned at his mirth, he was silent. Mter a
time he asked the boy : "That foreigner and the ballet dancer­
how long has it lasted?"
"Going on four years...
"Four years I"
Yuichi tried to imagine a period of four years with this boy
across the table and himself. Why did he feel certain that the
rapture of the night before last would never be repeated in that
four-year period?
The body of a man was something that spread out like the
contour of a plain, a vast unbroken expanse. It had none of the
fresh little marvelous springs, the mineral caves where exciting
crystalline structures were to be seen as with the woman's body,
which held out something new at each encounter. It was a sim­
ple exterior, the embodiment of pure, visible beauty. In the first
fever of curiosity, love and desire were wagered. Mterward love

[ 92 ]
 The Jungle of Sentiment

invaded the spirit or simply and lightly stole away to another

body.
After only one experience, Yuichi had already acquired the
right to think : If only in the first night my love makes itself
manifest, it would be no more than dishonest to both me and my
lover to repeat my clumsy carbon copies of that first night. It
will not do for me to judge my own sincerity by the sincerity of
my lover, but the reverse of that. Perhaps my sincerity will take
the form attained through an unlimited number of first nights
spent with a succession of lovers encountered in turn. My con­
stant love willbe the common thread in the ecstasies of countless
first nights, nothing other than the intense contempt of single
encounters unchanging no matter whom I meet.
Yuichi compared this love with the synthetic love he accorded
Yasuko. Both loves drove him without surcease. Loneliness
gripped him.
While Yuichi sat silent, Eichan looked idly over at the table
occupied by a group of youths. They sat leaning against each
other. They seemed to be conscious of the transience of the ties
that held them together and, rubbing shoulders and touching
hands, to be barely resisting this sense of uneasiness. The tie that
bound them seemed like the mutual affection of comrades-in­
arms who sense they will die on the morrow. As if this was too
much to bear, one kissed another on the neck. After a time they
hurriedly departed, their smooth-shaven napes alongside each
other.
Seated in his double-breasted checked suit and toying with his
lemon-colored tie, Eichan opened his mouth slightly and
watched them. Yuichi's lips had once searched his brows, his
eyelids, even his mouth like that of a male doll. Yuichi had
looked him over. Looking was cruel in the extreme. Every corner
of the boy's body, even to the little mole on his back, Yuichi felt
he knew. Once having entered this simple, lovely room, he re·
membered how it was made. There was a vase, and over there
was a bookcase. Surely, until the room crumbled, the vase and
the bookcase would remain in the same places, unmoved.
The boy took in that cool gaze. He suddenly grasped Yuichi's
hand under the table. Cruelly, Yuicbi wrenched his hand away.
The cruelty was to a certain degree intentional. Overburdened
by the resentment against his wife which he would not reveal,

[ 93 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

Yuichi yearned for the right to be unequivocally cruel to some­

one he had loved.
Tears mounted in the boy's eyes.
"I know how you feel, Yuchan," he said. "You're tired of m e
already, aren't you ?"
Yuichi denied it vehemently, but Eichan, as if speaking from
experience of a different level from that of his older friend, went
on maturely and decisively : "Yes. I knew it from the moment
you came in. That's the way it must be. That's the way we are,
one-step men. I'm used to it and can take it. But I hoped that
you above all would continue to be my big brother for the rest of
our lives. Now 111 be satisfied forever that I was your first lover.
You won't forget me, will you ? "
Yuichi was greatly moved b y this tender entreaty. I n his eyes,
too, tears welled. He sought the boy's hand under the table and
gently squeezed it.
At this moment the door opened and three foreigners entered.
Yuichi remembered h aving seen the face of one of them. It was
the slender foreigner who had come out of the building across
the street at the time of his wedding reception. His suit was
different, but he wore the same polka-dot bow tie. His h awk's
eye roved the room. He seemed to be drunk. He clapped his
hands smartly and called : "Eichan I Eichan I"
His pleasant, sweet voice reverberated from the walls.
The boy looked down so that his face could not be seen. Then
he clicked his tongue maturely and professionally : "Oh my, I
told him I wasn't coming here tonight."
Rudon flapped the hem of his sky-blue jacket and leaned over
the table. Then he said in a peremptory voice : "Eichan. Get over
there. It's your gentleman , you know."
The atmosphere of the place was filled with sadness.
Rudy's insistent plea added to it. Yuichi was ashamed of the
tears he had just shed. The boy glanced at Rudy and stood up
motioning as if he were going to throw something at him.
Moments of decision sometimes provide balm for the soul's
hurts. Yuichi now felt pride in the composure with which he
could watch Eichan. His gaze collided with the boy's uncer­
tainly. Then as if to try again and mend all, their eyes met again,
but to no avail. The boy walked away. Yuichi looked in another
direction, where he noticed the beautiful eye of a youth winking

[ 94 ]
 The Jungle of Sentiment

at him. His heart moved without hindrance, as easily as a butter­

fly, to meet that look.
The youth was leaning against the wall opposite. He was
dressed in dungarees and a navy-blue corduroy jacket. He wore
a dark-red necktie of coarse netting. He seemed to be a year or
two younger than Yuichi. The flowing line of his brows and the
wavy richness of his hair imparted a legendary c ast to his face.
Sad as a one-eyed jack, he winked in Yuichi's direction.
"Who is he?"
"Oh, that's Shigechan. He's the son of a grocer over by
Nakano. He's rather pretty. Shall I call him over?'' said Rudy. He
signaled, and that prince of the working classes rose nimbly
from his chair. He alertly saw that Yuichi had just taken out a
cigarette, and he struck a match with practiced grace and held
it within his palm. Translucent in the light of the match, his
h and glowed like agate. It was a big, honest hand, however­
legacy of his father's toil; one might sunnise.

The dislocation in the thinking of the men who visited this

place was subtle indeed. From his second day there, Yuichi was
called "Yuchan." Rudy treated him more like a close friend than
a customer. The patronage of Rudon's had increased suddenly,
after all, the day after he showed up there, as if word of this new
face had been deliberately broadcast. On the third day, some­
thing happened to swell Yuichi's reputation even rnore­
Shigechan appeared at the place shaved bald as a monk. Since
Yuichi had shared his bed with him the night before, he had,
with no regret, cut off his beautiful, abundant hair as a token of
his love.
Numerous fantastic stories of this kind circulated rapidly in
the world of this persuasion. By the code of the secret society,
stories were not carried one step outside, but once a miraculous
story got started on the inside it replaced all earlier secrets of the
boudoir. For, after all, nine tenths of the daily conversation was
taken up with erotic reports of one's own and others' experiences
in the bedroom.
As Yuichi's knowledge broadened, he carne to be amazed at
the unexpected scope of that world.

[ 9) J
 F O R B I D D EN C O L OR S

Muffled in a straw poncho, this world idled through the day­

light hours. There was friendship, the love of comrades, philan­
thropy, the love of master and protege ; there were partners,
assistants, managers , houseboys, leaders and followers, brothers,
cousins, uncle and nephew, secretaries, amanuenses, drivers
-there were numbers of other capacities and stations of diverse
kinds : executives, actors, singers, authors, artists, musicians,
high and mighty college professors, white-collar workers, stu­
dents. In the world of men they idled, muffled in all kinds of
ponchos made of straw.
They asked for themselves the advent of a world of supreme
benison; bound by the spell of their commmon fate, they
dreamed a dream of a simple truth. That dream was that the
truth that man loves man would overthrow the old truth that
man loves woman. Only the Jews were a match for them when it
came to fortitude. In the abnormal degree to which they held
fast to a single, humiliating point of view they were like the
Jews. The emotion proper to this tribe gave birth to fanatical
heroism during the war. Mter the war it embraced a pride at
being in the van of decadence. It thrived on confusion. In that
riven ground it grew clumps of tiny, dark violets.
Across this world of men only, however, a tremendous female
shadow lay. All tossed in nightmare under this unseen feminine
umbra. Some defied it; some resigned themselves to it; some
resisted and in the end were defeated; some worshiped it from
the beginning. Yuichi believed he was an exception. Then he
prayed that he was an exception. Then he strove that he might
be an exception. He worked that he might at least limit the
influence of that awful shadow to trivial matters-such as look­
ing in the mirror frequently, or the little habit of turning to look
at his form reflected in windows at street corners, or, when h e
went t o the theater, the insignificant, functionless habit o f walk­
ing affectedly in the h all during intermission. These are, of
course, habits common among normal young people.
One day in the hall of the theater Yuichi saw a singer who,
though famous in that world, was married. He had a manly face
and figure. He led a busy professional life and, as an avocation,
boxed assiduously in a ring he had installe d in his home. He had
a sweet voice and possessed everything that girls clamored for.
Now he was busily surrounded by four or five ladylike young
creatures. It happened, however, that a gentleman of about his

[ 96 ]
 The Jungle of Sentiment

own age called to him from nearby. He might have been a

schoolmate. The singer roughly grabbed his hand and shook it.
(They looked for all the world as if they were getting ready to
fight. ) He shook the friend's right hand in great swings and
pounded the friend's shoulder vigorously. His thin, serious friend
staggered slightly. The young ladies looked at each other and
laughed decorously.
This scene pierced Yuichi's heart. It was the exact opposite of
what Yuichi had seen in the park-those fellows in all their
coquettishness, hips swinging, shoulders drawn together, some­
thing so directly opposed that the hidden similar numbers came
floating up like invisible ink, touching something disgusting that
had been brought to light within him. Were he a spiritualist,
surely he would have called it fate. The singer's empty, artificial
coquetries directed at women ; his entire life concentrated, his
entire peripheral nervous system bent, intent, taut, totally
engaged-that strenuous "virile" performance capable of evok­
ing tears was unbearably bitter to watch.
Afterward "Yucban" was wooed incessantly. In short, intimacy
was forced upon him.
In a few days a romantic middle-aged merchant came to
Tokyo all the way from Aomori because he had already heard of
Yuichi and longed for him. One foreigner offered, through Rudy,
a suit of clothes, an overcoat, shoes, and a watch-a generous
offer for one night's favors. Yuichi was not interested. One man
moved into the chair next to Yuichi when it happened to be
vacant and, feigning drunkenness, pulled his hat brim down over
his eyes. Then he pushed his elbow far over the armrest and
poked Yuichi meaningfully in the ribs several times.
From time to time Yuichi had to take a roundabout route
home to avoid people covertly following him.
All that was known about him, however, was that he was still
a student. His station, his history-above all the fact that he was
already married, his lineage, his home, his house number-not a
person knew. The being of this beautiful youth, therefore, was
soon charged with the fragrance of divine miracle.
One day a palm reader who dealt primarily with homosexuals
came into Rudon's. He was an old man, wearing a threadbare
overcoat of the old Japanese style. He scanned Yuicbi's palm and
said, "You have two choices, see. Like the two swords of
Musashi Miyamoto, see. Somewhere away from here you have

[ 97 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

left a woman in tears, and you are here acting as if you don't
know about it, right?"
Yuichi shuddered slightly. Revealed before his eyes was a cer­
tain pettiness, cheapness, in his exotic charm. It lacked a frame
in real life.
That was true enough. The world that gathered at Rudon's
supported no more life than the torrid zone, a life like that of
practically exiled colonial administrative employees. In short,
there was nothing more than the bare essentials of sentiment ,
the violent discipline o f sentiment i n that world. An d if this was
the political fate of the tribe, who could resist it? There, plants
of extraordinary tenacity grew; it was the jungle of sentiment.
The man who lost his way in that jungle became affected by
noxious exhalations and eventually turned into a kind of un­
sightly monster. No one has a right to laugh. The difference is
only a matter of degree. In the world of homosexuality, no man
bas the power to resist the mysterious force that drags people
down willy-nilly into the wallow of sentiment. A man might, for
instance, resist by turning to a busy occupation , or intellectual
pursuit, or art, and cling to the higher intellectual levels of the
masculine world. No man, however, can withstand the flood of
emotion that cascades into his life ; no man has been able to
forget the connection that somehow exists between his body and
this morass. No man h as been able to cut his hand away sum­
marily from the damp familiarity he has with the creatures of
his kind. There have been countless attempts. The outcome of
each, however, has been only this damp h andshake again, only
this sticky winking come round once more. Men like this, who
essentially are incapable of maintaining a home, can find some­
thing like a h ousehold fire only in the gloomy eyes that say :
"You , too, are one of our kind."
One day Yuichi's early morning lecture had ended, and in the
interval before the next one began, he strolled around the foun­
tain in the university garden. Paths stretched out in a grid pat­
tern enclosing patches of lawn . The fountain stood out against a
background of trees eloquent with the loneliness of autumn ; as
the wind changed, it drooped to leeward and wet the grass. Its
fan, fluttering in the sky, at times seemed to have lost its pivot.
Outside the gate, the superannuated intra-city trolleys sent the
sound of their passing echoing off the mosaic walls of the lecture
halls under the cloudy sky.
 The Jungle of Sentiment

He did not choose one friend above another, and as far as the
world was concerned he had no need of anyone to relieve his
constant loneliness other than a few incorruptible souls with
whom he could exchange notes. Among these steadfast friends,
Yuichi was envied for his lovely wife, and the question as to
whether marriage would cure his philandering was seriously
argued. It was an argument that seemed to know what it was
driving at, and it arrived at the conclusion that Yuichi was a
woman chaser.
As a result, when he suddenly heard himself called by the
name "Yuchan," his pulse quickened like that of a fugitive.
It was a student sitting on a stone bench caught up in ivy
beside one of the paths where the sun now gently slanted. Bent
over a large electrical engineering textbook open on his knees,
the student had not been in Yuichi's field of vision until he
called.
Yuichi stopped and regretted that he had done so. It would
have been better to act as if it were not his n ame. Again the
student called, "Yuchan," and stood up. He slapped the dust
from his trousers carefully. He had a cheerful, round face, an
animated face. His pants looked as if they got their crease by
being placed under his mattress nightly. They stood straight and
stiff as if they had been cut and hung up. He pulled up his
trousers at the waist, and as he adjusted his belt, he exposed the
broad pleats of his bright, immaculate white shirt.
"Are you speaking to me?" said Yuichi , pausing.
"Yes. I met you at Hudon's. My name is Suzuki."
Yuichi looked at the face again. He didn't recall it.
"I guess you've forgotten. There are a lot of kids that wink at
Yuchan. Even kids who have come there with their gentlemen
wink at him. I haven't winked yet, though."
"What do you want?"
"What do I want? Yuchan, of all people ! Don't be uncouth.
How'd you like to play around now?"
"Play around?"
"You don't understand, eh ?"
The two youths slowly drew closer.
"But it's still broad daylight."
"Even in the daylight there are loads of places to go."
"Yes, for a man and a woman."
"No, not that. I'll show you."

[ 99 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C OL ORS

"But . . . I don't have anything on me."

"I do. And if Yuchan will come play around with me, it's my
pleasure."
Yuichi cut that afternoon's lecture.
With what he got from working somewhere or other, the
younger student treated to cab fare. The cab went through a
dreary, burned-out mansion district of Takagicho, in Aoyama.
Inside a gate of which only the stone wall had not burned down,
before a house bearing the name "Kusaka" and a barely visible
new temporary roof, Suzuki ordered the cab to stop. There was a
wicket gate in the entrance and an old-fashioned door that was
shut tight. Suzuki rang the bell, and for no apparent reason
unhooked the neckband of his student uniform. He turned to
Yuichi and smiled.
In a short time the sound of garden geta moving with short,
quick steps approached the entrance . A voice that was either a
man's or a woman's-one could not tell which-asked who was
there.
"It's Suzuki; open up," the student said. The door opened. A
middle-aged man in a bright red jacket greeted the two youths.
The garden was strange to look at. It was possible to go to the
outbuildings, connected with the main house by a covered way,
on a path of steppingstones. The garden trees , however, were
practically all gone. The spring had dried up. As if part of a
wilderness in microcosm, fall plants were flourishing luxuriously
everywhere and anywhere. Among the plants, foundation stones
-remnants of a fire-gleamed whitely. The two students
stepped up into a new four-and-a-half-mat outbuilding that still
smelled of lumber.
"Shall I heat your bath? "
"No, thank you," Suzuki said.
"Would you like a drink?"
"No, thank you."
"Well," the man said, grinning sagely, "I'll lay out the bed.
Young people are always in a hurry to get in bed."
The two waited in the adjoining two-mat room until the futon
was laid out. They said nothing. Suzuki offered Yuichi a ciga­
rette. He accepted. With that, Suzuki put two cigarettes in his
mouth, lit them, and gave Yuichi one with a smile. In the exag­
gerated composure of this student, Yuichi could not help but
think there were traces of a childish innocence.

[ 1 00 ]
 The Jungle of Sentiment

There was a sound as of distant thunder-the storm doors in

the other room were being closed even though it was daytime.
They were called into the bedroom. A light was burning in the
lamp by the bed. From the other side of the sliding doors, the
man said, "Rest well." His retreating footsteps sounded from the
covered passageway. It was a daytime sound-the creaking of
the boards in the passageway-yet they made one think a feeble
sun was shining.
Suzuki undid a breast button and lay down on the quilts.
Propped on one elbow, he smoked his cigarette. As the sound of
footsteps faded, he jumped up like a young hunting dog. He was
somewhat shorter than Yuichi. He sprang to embrace Yuichi
around the neck and kiss him. The two students kissed for some­
thing like four or :five minutes. Yuichi slipped his hand inside the
other boy's tunic, under the button that was loose. The heartbeat
he felt was violent. The two separated, turned from each other
and hastily tore off their clothing.
As the two naked youths embraced each other, the sound of
the trolley cars and the crow of roosters, inappropriate at this
time, carne to them as if it were the middle of the night.
Through a gap in the storm doors, however, a ray of the
westering sun made the dust dance. Spots of coagulated resin in
the center of the knots in the wood were turned by the sun's rays
into the color of blood. A thin ray of light glinted off the muddy
water that :filled the vase in the alcove. Yuichi sank his face into
Suzuki's h air. His hair was slicked down by lotion instead of oil
and the smell was agreeable. Suzuki buried his face in Yuichi's
breast. In the outer corners of his closed eyes, traces of tears
glistened faintly.
The sound of a fire siren came dreamily into Yuichi's ears. As
it faded in the distance it was followed by a second. Finally he
heard a third, heading somewhere in the distance.
Another fire . . . He pursued the slippery train of thought. Like
the first day I went to the park. In a big city, there are always
fires somewhere. And there are always crimes somewhere, too.
God, despairing of burning away crime with fire, perhaps dis­
tributed crime and fire in equal quantities. Thus crime is never
consumed by fire, while innocence can be burnt up. That's why
insurance companies prosper. My guilt, however-in order that
it might become a pure thing immune to :fire, must not my inno­
cence first pass through the fire? My complete innocence where

[ I0I ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

Yasuko i s concerned . . . . Didn't I once ask to b e born again for

Yasuko's sake? And now?
At four o'clock in the afternoon the two students shook hands
in front of Shibuya Station and separated. Neither had the feel­
ing he had conquered the other.
When he got home, Yasuko said : "You're home unusually
early. Are you going to stay home all evening?"
Yuichi said he would, but that evening he and his wife went to
the movies. The seats were narrow. Yasuko leaned against his
shoulder. Suddenly she pulled her head away. Her eyes n ar­
rowed wisely, like the ears of a dog coming to a point.
"You smell good. You put on hair lotion, didn't you?"
Yuichi started to deny it, but he caught himself and said she
was right. Yasuko, however, seemed to realize that it was not her
husband's scent. And what if she did? It was not really a
woman's scent either.

[ 1 02 ]
 CHAPTER 9

JEAL O US Y

•1 HAVE MADE a terrific find," Shunsuke wrote in his diary.

"To have found such a perfect living doll as this I Yuichi is truly
exquisite. Not only that, he is morally frigid. He isn't addicted to
circumspection, of which other youths smell like incense. He
doesn't take responsibility for his actions in the slightest. The
morality of this youth says, in short, 'Don't do anything.' Thus,
once he starts to do something he rules out morality. This youth
decays like radioactive material. He is truly the thing I had long
wearied of searching for. Yuichi does not believe in the modern
distress.''
A few days after the Charity Ball, Shunsuke laid plans to have
Kyoko and Yuichi meet accidentally. He heard the story of
Rudon's from Yuichi. It was his suggestion that they meet there
in the evening.
That afternoon Shunsuke Hinoki delivered a speech , which h e
hated t o d o . H e was reduced t o it b y the necessity o f promoting
his Complete Works. It was an afternoon in which the coolness
of early autumn was noticeable. The gloomy figure of the old
writer in his Western suit lined with silk floss intimidated the
people assisting with the lecture. He stood at the rostrum still
wearing his cashmere gloves. He had no reason for doing so. The
impudent young man running the lecture had been careful to
inform Shunsuke that he had forgotten to take off his gloves, so
he went ahead with them on, just to annoy.
The audience that filled the hall numbered about two thou­
sand. Shunsuke looked at lecture audiences with contempt.
Among the members of lecture audiences, there are the same

( l OJ ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

fads that are current in modern photography. There i s the watch­

for-a-chance method, the unguarded-moment method, the rever­
ence for naturalness, the faith in the unvarnished truth. the over­
valuation of daily life, the interest in anecdote-all crazes that
take into account only men put together of such worn-out mate­
rials. The photographers say : "Relax," or "Keep talking," or
"Smile, please." The audience asks the same things. They are
addicted to earnestness and the unpainted face. Shunsuke hated
the preoccupation with modern psychology that judged his
casual, offhand remarks or his daily actions as betraying his
identity or ideas with better clarity than did his highly polished
sentences.
To countless curious eyes, he exposed his familiar face. Before
this throng, convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that individ­
u ality was better than beauty, he felt not the slightest sense of
inferiority. Shunsuke indifferently smoothed the creases out of
his thin note paper and placed the cut-glass water pitcher on
them by way of a paperweight. The moisture ran into the ink
and turned the notes to a lovely indigo. It made him think of the
ocean. With that, somehow he had the feeling that in that jet­
black audience of two thousand, Yuichi, Yasuko, Kyoko, and
Mrs. Kaburagi were buried from sight. Shunsuke loved them,
because they were not people who would come out to a lecture
or anything of the kind.
"True beauty makes men dumb," began the old man, in spirit­
less tones. "In the days when this faith had not yet been de­
stroyed, criticism was a profession unto itself. Criticism strove to
imitate beauty." With his cashmere glove, Shunsuke stroked the
air and gestured with his fingers. "In short, criticism, like beauty,
sought above all to strike men dumb. We can't call this an objec­
tive so much as an anti-objective. Criticism's method was to
evoke silence without calling on beauty. It depended on the
power of logic. The logic that is criticism's method, with beauty's
coercive power, must impose silence forcibly. This silence must
depend for its effectiveness, as the end product of criticism, on
creating the delusion that here beauty exists. A vacuum must be
given shape as a surrogate for beauty. In this way only, criticism
succeeded in being of use in the process of creation.
"At some time, however, the faith that beauty must strike
dumb became a thing of the past. Beauty has not only failed to
silence people, it has gotten so even when it passes through the

[ 104 ]
 Jealousy

middle of a banquet people don't stop talking. Those of you who

have gone to Kyoto do not fail to go to the Stone Garden at the
Ryoanji Temple. That garden, though, is never a problem; it is
beauty, pure and simple. It is a garden to strike man dumb. The
amusing thing, though , is that the fine people who are so kind as
to fare forth to view this august garden are not satisfied simply
to be silent. Saying that it would not do not to say a word, they
screw up their faces trying to squeeze out a haiku.
"Beauty has become a stimulus to garrulity. It has gotten so
that on confronting the beautiful one feels duty-bound to say
something in a great hurry. It has gotten so we feel we must
convert beauty right away. If we don't convert it, it's dangerous.
Like explosives, beauty has become a difficult thing to own. The
power of possessing beauty through silence, this m ajestic power
for which one would lay down his life, has been lost.
"With this the age of criticism began. Criticism came to func­
tion not as the imitator of beauty, but as the converter of it.
Criticism m arshaled its forces in the direction opposite to that of
beauty. Critics who e arlier were followers of beauty now be­
came the stockbrokers of beauty, the process servers of beauty.
To wit, as the belief that beauty would strike men dumb went
into decline, criticism had to flaunt its sad sovereignty as surro­
gate, standing in for beauty. Beauty itself struck no man dumb;
much less so did criticism. Thus today's evil times of talk beget­
ting talk, of ears being deafened by it, began. Beauty makes men
everywhere chatter. In the end, thanks to this loquaciousness,
beauty is artificially [What a strange way to express i t ! ] propa­
gated. The mass production of beauty has begun. Thus criticism,
turning to these numberless imitation beauties-born from es­
sentially the same place as itself-has heaped vile oaths upon
,"
them . . .
Mter the meeting was over, and Shunsuke entered Rudon's at
nightfall to meet Yuichi, the guests who observed the entrance of
this fidgety, lonely old man took one look and averted their eyes.
Just as when Yuichi entered, everyone was silent, but here it was
not beauty but lack of concern that struck men dumb. It was,
however, not a forced silence.
As if he knew him well, the old man bowed to Yuichi, who sat
in a corner talking to the young men; he found a place at the
somewhat isolated table to which he had invited Yuichi. Every
eye showed unusual interest.

[ 1 05 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

Yuichi joined Shunsuke, exchanged a few words , then excused

himself for a moment. When he returned to Shunsuke he said :
"It seems that everybody thinks I'm your boy friend. They asked
me if that was so; I told them it was. That way you'll h ave no
trouble coming around here. Since you're a novelist you must
surely find much of interest in a place like this."
Shunsuke was shocked, but because he preferred to let matters
in this place take their course he did not reprove him for his
rashness.
"If you are my boy friend, how am I supposed to act toward
you ?"
"That's a problem, isn't it? If you just look quietly happy, it
will be fine."
"Me, happy? "
I t was uncanny-Shunsuke, the dead man, portraying happi­
ness I He was perplexed by this strange role he had been pressed
into by this unexpectedly forceful director.
Taking the opposite tack, he tried to make a wry face. That
was difficult, however. Thinking he was making a fool of him­
self, he gave up trying to act anything. He was unaware that
now an expression of happiness radiated his countenance.
Since he could think of no proper explanation for his lightness
of heart, Shunsuke assumed it was from his customary profes­
sional curiosity. Long deprived of his literary powers, he was
embarrassed by his false fervor. For ten years now, how many
times the impulse to create had flooded over him like a tide, but
when he took brush in hand, the brush would not write so much
as a line. The artistic impulse that in his young days nagged at
him like an illness in everything he did now was only a barren
half-starved curiosity.
How beautiful Yuichi is I the old author thought, watching him
from a distance when he left his seat again. Among these four or
five beautiful boys, he alone stands out. Beauty is something that
burns the hand when you touch it. Thanks to him there must
surely be a lot of burned homosexuals.
Now, before his eyes, a rather tense scene began.
Yuichi had been c alled over to the table of two foreigners. The
table happened to be separated from Shunsuke's table by a
water tank in which fresh-water fish were swimming. It served
as a screen. In the tank green lights had been placed that
gleamed through the clumps of seaweed. Set off by the lights,

[ 1 06 ]
 Jealousy

the ripples threw patterns on the face of the bald-headed for­

eigner. His companion was a much younger foreigner who
seemed to be his secretary. The older man spoke no Japanese,
and the secretary interpreted everything he said to Yuichi.
The rhythmic Boston English of the older man, the fluent
Japanese of the secretary, and the short answers of Yuichi all
made their way to Shunsuke's ears.
First the old foreigner poured Yuichi a beer; then he praised
his beauty and his youth over and over. These flowery words
and phrases made for a rare translation. Shunsuke listened
attentively. The gist of the conversation was becoming clear.
The old foreigner was a trader. He was looking for a young,
beautiful Japanese youth as a companion . It was the secretary's
job to select that person. The secretary had recommended many
young men to his employer, but they had not appealed to him.
He had, in fact, come here several times. This evening for the
first time, however, he had discovered the ideal youth. If Yuichi
wished, a purely platonic association would be satisfactory for
the time being, but, the re quest went, would be enter into some
kind of arrangement?
Shunsuke noticed that there was a strange gap between the
original statement and the interpretation. Subjects and objects
were being intentionally muddied. At no time could it be called
unfaithful, but the tone of the interpretation struck Sbunsuke as
being a sweet, flirtatious circumlocution. The young secretary
had a fierce, Germanic profile. From thin lips he pronounced his
sharp, dry, clear-as-a-whistle Japanese. Shunsuke glanced under
the table and started. Both the secretary's feet were locked
tightly about Yuichi's ankle. The old foreigner seemed quite un­
aware of this barefaced coquetry.
At last the old man began to understand what was going on.
There was no duplicity in the letter of the interpretation, but the
secretary was doing his best to get one foot ahead of his em­
ployer in Yuichi's esteem.
By what name can the unspeakably painful emotion be c alled
that now overcame Shunsuke? Shunsuke glanced at the shadow
thrown by Yuichi's eyelashes on his downtumed cheek. These
long eyelashes, creating conjectures of how beautiful they must
be in bed, suddenly fluttered. The youth's smiling glance flashed
in the direction of Shunsuke. The old author shivered. Then a
deeper, twofold , unfathomable despair gripped him.

[ 1 01 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

You must b e jealous, h e said t o himself, judging b y this pain

in your breast.
He was reminded of each detail of the feeling that tortured
him when long ago he was shown the prurience of his wanton
wife in the kitchen door in the dawn. There was the same pain
in his breast, an emotion that had no outlet. In this feeling, the
only thing that was worth all the emotions of the world, the only
prize, was his ugliness.
That was jealousy. In shame and anger this dead man's face
flushed. In a piercing voice, he called : "Check!" He stood up.
"Well, that old man is singeing in jealousy's flame," whispered
Kimichan to Shigechan. "What does Yuchan see in him? How
many years, I wonder, has Yuichi been hooked up with that old
guy?"
"He even followed Yuichi here, didn't he?" said Shigechan, his
voice ringing with hostility. "He's really a shameless old man."
"He looks like a profitable client."
"What does he do? He looks as if he's got a penny or two."
"Maybe he's an alderman or something."
At the door, Shunsuke realized that Yuichi had arisen and was
coming quietly after him. On the street Shunsuke stretched him­
self, then pounded himself over and over on the shoulders, alter­
nating hands.
"Are your shoulders stiff?"
Yuichi spoke in a gentle, reassuring tone, giving the old man
the feeling that his inner depths were open to view.
"The same thing will happen to you someday. The shame
gradually gets inside you. When young people are embarrassed,
their skin turns red. We feel embarrassment in the flesh, particu­
larly the bones. My bones hurt because I was taken for one of
the fraternity."
The two strolled about for a time, side by side through the
crowds.
"You don't like youth, do you ?" Yuichi came out with this
suddenly. They were words Shunsuke had not anticipated.
"What do you mean?" he said, affronted. "If I don't like youth,
how did I ever beat my old bones into coming down here?''
"Just the same, you don't like youth." Yuichi said it again with
finality.
"Youth that is not beautiful. 'Belmtiful youth' is an annoying
twist of phrase. My youth was ugly. That's something you can't

[ 108 ]
 Jealousy

imagine. I spent my youth wishing to be born again."

"Me, too."
"You mustn't say that. When you say that, you violate a taboo,
or something. It is your fate never to be able to say that. By the
way, I hope I didn't get you into trouble with that foreigner by
walking out so suddenly just now."
"No, not at all," said the youth unconcernedly. It was close to
seven o'clock. The throng was at its height on the street at this
time, which had been the hour of early closing during the war. It
was a very misty evening, and the outline of the distant shops
was like a copper-plate lithograph. The smell of the twilit street
busily teased the nostrils. It was the best time of the year for
subtle olfactory excitement. The smells of fruits, flannels, newly
printed books, evening papers, kitchens, coffee, shoe polish, gaso­
line, and pickles mingled and created a translucent picture of
the business of the street. The noise of the elevated train bat­
tered at their conversation.
"There's a shoe store," Shunsuke said, pointing to a brightly
decorated window. "It's a high-priced shop, called Kiriya. To­
night that store is going to have the dancing shoes ready that
Kyoko ordered. Kyoko is coming for them at seven. At that time
I want you to be going in and out, looking at men's shoes. Kyoko
is a fairly punctual woman. When she comes, act surprised and
say, 'Oh l' Then invite her for tea. She'll take care of the rest."
"And you?"
"I'll be at the little restaurant over there, having tea," the old
man said.
Yuichi was perplexed by the strangely narrow and twisted
view this old man had of youth. He supposed it came from the
poverty of his own youth. Yuichi imagined the tiny bit of youth­
ful ugliness that might have come back into Shunsuke's cheek
while he walked about checking the time of Kyoko's appointment
at the shoe store. He could not, however, think of it any longer as
alien to himself. At the same time, thanks to his abnormally
close contact with the self in his mirror, he was already slave to
the habit of taking his own beauty into account on every occa­
sion.

[ 1 09 ]
 CHAPTER IO

T H E FAL SE A C CIDENT
AND THE TR UE

FOR THE PAST twenty-four hours, Kyoko Hodaka had thought

of nothing but her chartreuse dancing slippers. Nothing
else in the world m attered to her. Whoever looked at Kyoko
would think fate h ad surely touched her lightly. Like a person
who had thrown himself into a salt lake and then found himself
buoyed up and rescued in spite of himself, Kyoko never ever
under any circumstances got to the bottom of her emotions. For
that reason, although her sunny disposition was instinctive, i t
seemed to b e something imposed upon her b y conscious policy.
There were times when Kyoko was feverish ; people were al­
ways seeing the calm hand of her husband in the background,
fanning this false passion. In truth, she was like a well-trained
dog, an intelligence built up from nothing more than force of
habit. Those impressions gave to her own natural beauty the
beautiful aspect of a plant made painstakingly by hand.
Kyoko's husband was tired of her complete lack of sincerity.
In order to increase the heat of his wife's passion he resorted to
every technique of lovemaking. In order to make her serious, he
played philanderer, very much against his inclinations. Kyoko
wept often. Her tears, however, were only showers. Start a seri­
ous story, and Kyoko would giggle as if tickled. Just the same,
she lacked the superabundance of wit and humor that could
have redeemed her womanliness.
In her bed in the morning, if ten great ideas occurred to
Kyoko, by nightfall it would be surprising if she remembered

( I I0 ]
 The Fal.s� Accident and the True

one or two. Her plan to change the picture in her living room
might thus be put off for ten days. The few things that did
h appen to remain in her mind had to wait until they became
nagging nuisances before they got done.
The fold of her rather Caucasian eyelids would sometimes
show an extra fold. Her husband hated to see this, for it became
shockingly evident at those moments that there was not a thing
on her mind.
That day Kyoko had gone to the nearby stores shopping with
a former servant. In the afternoon she entertained two of her
husband's female cousins. The cousins played the piano and
Kyoko merely sat, not listening. When it was over she clapped
and meted out effusive compliments. Then they talked about
some shop in the Ginza where Western pastries were cheap and
delicious, or how a watch that one of them bought with dollars
was selling at three times the price in a store in the Ginza. Then
they talked about the fabrics they were getting ready for winter,
and after that they came to the best-selling novel. Then the fair
argument was advanced that the reason novels were cheaper
than Western fabrics was, naturally, that they couldn't be worn
about. All Kyoko was thinking about then was her dancing slip­
pers, but the cousins , who noticed her absent-mindedness,
thought she must be in love. It was doubtful, however, that
Kyoko was capable of loving anything more than dancing slip­
pers.
For this reason, Shunsuke's expectations notwithstanding,
Kyoko had cleanly forgotten about the beautiful youth who had
made such a fuss about her at the last ball. When Kyoko came
face to face with Yuichi on her way into the shoe store, her mind
was full of the idea that she would soon see her shoes. She was
not particularly surprised at running into him, and she greeted
him perfunctorily.
Yuichi suddenly realized the meanness of the part he was
playing. He decided to leave, but anger held him back for the
time being. He hated that woman. He had even forgotten his
h atred of Shunsuke, evidence that the passion of Shunsuke now
possessed him. He whistled unconcernedly as he passed inside
and looked at the window displays from that vantage point. His
whistle reverberated with his disappointment. Occasionally his
eyes flicked back to the woman behind him trying on her shoes,
and as he did so a dark competitive spirit developed in him.

[ 1 11 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

"All right ! I'll really make that woman unhappy."

The style of the dancing slippers was exactly what Kyoko
wanted. She had the clerk wrap them up. Her fever slowly sub­
sided.
She turned and smiled. Then she became really aware of the
lone, beautiful youth for the first time.
This evening her good fortune was like a faultless bill of fare.
Though it was not her way to extend an invitation to a man she
did not know well she went up to Yuichi and ever so gently said :
"Would you like to go somewhere for a cup of tea?''
Yuichi nodded in silence.
It was past seven, and a great number of shops had already
closed. The tea shop in which Shunsuke was sitting was still
brightly lighted. As they passed it, Kyoko started to enter, but
Yuichi headed her off. Mter that they passed two places with
drawn curtains; then at last they came to one that looked as if it
might be open.
They sat down at a table in the corner, and Kyoko casually
pulled off her lace gloves. Her eyes were glowing. She looked at
Yuichi steadily and inquired : "Is your wife well?"
"Yes."
"Are you all alone today?"
"Yes."
"I see. You're going to meet your wife here, and it'll be nice if
I keep you company until she comes."
''I'm really alone. I just came over here on a little business at a
friend's office."
"Is that so?" The note of caution vanished from her voice. "I
haven't seen you since that time."
It came back to Kyoko slowly : the way that youth's body, like
an animal, filled with majesty, had pressed her body into the
corner; the way his fierce eyes begging her pardon seemed more
intent on some design of their own; his rather long sideburns
forming a point under the temples; his passionate cheeks ; his
simple child's lips, pouting as if caught in the midst of a com­
plaint.
Then another definite recollection insisted on returning. She
decided to test it with a trick. She pulled the ash tray toward
her. Now when the youth wanted to tap off his ashes he hac!
to bend his head before her, like that of a young bull. She

( I I2 ]
 The False Accident and the True

inhaled the aroma of his hair cream. It was a scent throbbing

with youth. That was the scent !
That scent she had caught again and again, even in her
dreams, since the evening of the ball. One morning this scent of
her dreams enveloped her tenaciously even after she had awak­
ened. She had some shopping to do in the city, and about an
hour after her husband went to his job at the Foreign Office, she
boarded a bus jammed with people who started work later than
most. There she got a strong whiff of that same pomade. Her
breast was in tumult. When she got a look at the profile of the
youth wearing it, however, she was disappointed to realize that
though the pomade had the same scent as in her dream the face
bore no relation to it. She didn't know the name of the pomade,
but from time to time in crowded trolleys or stores, the aroma
was wafted to her from she knew not where, overpowering her,
she knew not why.
That's itl That's the scent l Kyoko looked at Yuichi unwaver­
ingly with new eyes. She had discovered in this youth the dan­
gerous power he was plotting to wield over her, a dazzling
power.
Yet here was a truly frivolous woman, and she found amusing
the power that every man worthy of the name exerted. Be they
ugly or handsome, men all had in common this master-slave
absurdity they call desire. For instance, the man does not exist
who from the time he ceases being a boy is not ruled by the
theme of those stories-the trite theme that goes : "Woman is
never intoxicated by her own happiness at any time so much as
when she sees desire in a man's eyes."
How ordinary is this young man's youthfulness, thought
Kyoko, still full of self-reliance in her own youthfulness. It's a
youthfulness you find everywhere. It's a youthfulness aware that
it is at the age most prone to confuse sincerity with desire.
In perfect consonance with the misapprehensions Kyoko was
thus arriving at, Yuichi's eyes brimmed with the cloudiness of a
somewhat dissipated passion. Those eyes had not forgotten,
however, their natural blackness, and when she looked at them
she felt as if a torrent was roaring through a conduit.
"Have you been dancing anywhere since I saw you last?"
"No, I haven't."
"Doesn't your wife like dancing?"

[ 1 13 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

"She rather likes it."

How noisy it was I This restaurant was really a quiet place.
Nevertheless, the low sound of records, of shoes, of plates, of
laughter from the patrons at infrequent intervals, as well as the
telephone, all commingled and amplified, irritating the ear. As if
bearing them ill will, the sound drove a wedge into their already
stilted conversation. Kyoko felt as if she and Yuichi were talking
under water.
When she tried to approach him in their conversation, he
seemed to move away. Happy-go-lucky person that she was,
Kyoko was just beginning to realize the great gulf that lay be·
tween her and this youth who seemed to desire her so much. I
wonder if my words are getting across to him, she thought.
Maybe it's because the table is too big. Without realizing it,
Kyoko was exaggerating her own emotions.
"Now that you've danced with me, you don't seem to want
anything more to do with me, do you ? "
Yuichi's expression seemed t o be one o f discomfort. I f this sort
of give and take, this unpremeditated acting in departure from
the script, had become second nature with him, it was largely
attributable to the power of that wordless youth in the mirror.
The mirror had schooled him in the expression of the various
emotions that all the angles and shades of his beauty spoke of.
Mter a time his beauty had , by conscious effort, become inde­
pendent of Yuichi himself, and thus made itself freely available
to him.
Perhaps for this reason Yuichi no longer felt the constraint as
with Yasuko before they were married. In fact, he had suc­
ceeded by this time in freely reveling with almost sensual gusto
in the presence of women. A vague, abstract sensuality, it was
the feeling that had intrigued him once in swimming and high
jumping. In possession of this freedom unfettered by the great
adversary that is sexuality, he felt that his own existence was
like a delicately versatile mechanism.
For want of something better, Kyoko gossiped about people
she knew. She mentioned various names, but Yuichi didn't rec­
ognize any. Kyoko thought that amazing. As far as Kyoko knew,
romance was a thing that could only happen to her or her ac­
quaintances. Even they, however, were always paired in per­
fectly predictable patterns. In short, the arranged romance was
all they believed in.

[ I I 4 ]
 The False Accident and the True

After a time. Kyoko did hit on a name Yuichi knew : "Did you
know Reiko Kiyoura, who died three or four years ago?"
"Yes ; she was my cousin."
"Why, then you're called Yuchan by your relatives, aren't
you ? "
Yuichi started; then h e smiled calmly.
"I guess I am."
"So you're Yuchan."
Kyoko looked at him so fixedly that Yuichi felt uncomfortable.
She explained why. Of her classmates, Reiko had been her clos­
est friend. Before she died, Reiko had entrusted her diary to
Kyoko. It was a diary in which she had written up till a few days
before the end. The only thing this poor long-suffering woman
had felt that mattered in her life was the occasional sight of her
young cousin's beautiful face.
She loved this youth, who visited at infrequent and irregular
intervals. She would ask to kiss him, but he, fearing contagion,
would shudder and hold back. After all, Reiko's husband had
passed his own infection on to his wife before he died.
Reiko tried to let the youth know how she felt, but she never
succeeded. Now a fit of coughing, now reticence stood in the
way of her confession. To her this young eighteen-year-old
cousin was like a young tree catching the sun in the garden just
outside her sickroom. She saw in him all that shone, all that
stood opposed to sickness and death. His health, his bright
laughter, his beautiful white teeth , his freedom from pain and
misery, his na'ivete, the way vernal youth touched him in daz­
zling brightness : all she seized upon. She feared, however, that
her confession of love, if it awakened sympathy in him, or if it
made him begin to love her, would mark his cheek with pain
and misery. She preferred to go to her grave remembering only
the fierceness in his profile and his almost unconscious youthful
capriciousness . Every day's entry in her diary began with the
invocation : "Yuchan." She took an apple he had brought one
day, cut his initial out of it, and kept it hidden under her pillow.
She also teased him for his picture. He modestly turned her
down.
Kyoko had reason to find the name Yuchan more appealing
than Yuichi. Not only that, she had come to love this name, as
she had built it up in her fancy since Reiko's death.
Listening to her, Yuichi toyed with his silver-plated spoon.

[ I IJ J
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

Her revelation stirred him. He was learning for the first time that
his bedridden cousin, ten years his senior, had loved him. Also,
he was amazed at how far mistaken her idea of him had been. At
the time he had been groaning under the weight of aimless,
abnor-mal sexual desire. He almost envied his cousin her then not
very distant death.
I had no reason at that time to pull the wool over Reiko's eyes,
Yuichi thought. It just happened because I hated to lay my heart
bare. Reiko, furthermore, had the mistaken notion I was a sim­
ple uncomplicated boy; and I, for my part, was quite unaware of
Reiko's love. I suppose everybody finds in a mistaken notion
about another person his one reason for living. In short, this
youth, permeated with the virtue of pride, was trying to per­
suade himself that his dallying with Kyoko was sincerity itself.
Kyoko sat back and observed Yuichi. She was already in love
with him. The motivation of her shallow heart sprang from, one
might almost say, a faint mistrust of her own passions. When,
therefore, she had before her a witness to the passion of the
dead Reiko, she was able to affirm the validity of her own pas­
sion.
Besides, Kyoko miscalculated. She felt that Yuichi's heart had
been inclined toward her from the beginning. She had therefore
only to come half a step.
"I wish we could find a place to talk quietly. Is it all right if I
call you?"
Yuichi, however, was usually not at horne at any definite hour.
He suggested he do the calling, but Kyoko informed him that
she herself was seldom at horne. She was therefore delighted to
find that they must arrange for their next meeting then and
there.
Kyoko took out her appointment book and grasped the deli­
cate pencil fastened to it by a silk cord. She had many appoint­
ments. It filled her with secret pleasure to cancel the one that
was most difficult to break. Across the date of a reception for a
certain international figure which required her attendance at the
Foreign Office with her husband, she lightly drew the point of
her pencil. It would provide the very secrecy and excitement her
next meeting with Yuichi would require.
Yuichi agreed. The woman grew bolder; she suggested he see
her horne this evening. The youth hesitated, and she told him
that she only said it to see the troubled look on his face. Then

[ 1 16 ]
 The False Accident and the True

she gazed at his shoulders, much as one would gaze at a moun­

tain peak. Hoping he would speak, she kept quiet for a time ;
then she started chattering again. She went so far as to demean
herself by saying : "Your wife is lucky. You're really considerate
of her."
Having said this, she slumped in her chair as if worn out
completely.
Suddenly a thrill went through Kyoko. She had guests corning
to the house this evening ! They were waiting for her. She de­
cided not to meet them. She got up to telephone an excuse.
The c all went right through, but the voice carne from far
away. She could not hear the maid's words distinctly. Interfering
with their exchange was a sound in the phone like that of falling
rain. She looked out of the great plate-glass window. It was
raining. Unfortunately she had not brought any rain gear with
her. She felt very daring.
On the way back to her place, she saw a middle-aged woman
sitting beside Yuichi. Kyoko drew her chair away as she sat
down. Yuichi introduced the woman : "This is Mrs. Ka·buragi."
Each woman perceived the hostility of the other at a glance.
This accidental meeting was something Shunsuke had not reck­
oned with; Mrs. Kaburagi had, in fact, been watching the two
from a distant comer for some time.
"I carne a little early for our appointment. I didn't want to
interfere until you'd finished with your business. I beg your par­
don," Mrs. Kaburagi said. In that instant, in the act of telling
that little-girl fib, Mrs . Kaburagi showed her age as infallibly as
did her too youthful makeup. Kyoko saw the ugliness of those
years with relief. Convinced of her advantage, she saw through
the lie. She smiled in Yuichi's direction, with a wink to indicate
that she understood.
What prevented Mrs. Kaburagi's noticing the contemptuous
wink of the younger woman was the fact that jealousy had
robbed her of pride. Kyoko said : "I must beg your pardon for
having kept you waiting with my ceaseless chatter. Well, I must
be going now. Would you get me a cab, Yuchan? It's raining."
"Raining?" Embarrassed at being addressed as Yuchan, he
pretended to be astonished by the rain, as if it were a momen­
tous event.
As soon as Yuichi was outside the door, a cruising cab drove
up. He signaled toward the restaurant. Kyoko said good-bye to

( I 17 )
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

Mrs . Kaburagi and arose. Yuichi saw her off, waving his hand in
the rain. Without a word, she departed.
Yuichi returned to Mrs. Kaburagi and sat down. His wet hair
clung to his brow like seaweed. Then he saw that Kyoko had left
a package behind in her chair. Swiftly he picked it up and
started to run outside. He had forgotten that the cab had de­
parted. This concern he was showing for someone else filled
Mrs. Kaburagi with dismay.
"Did she forget something?" she asked, forcing a smile.
"Yes, her new shoes."
Both believed that Kyoko had forgotten no more than a pair
of shoes. Actually she had left behind something that, until she
met Yuichi today, had been the sole concern of this day in her
life.
"It might be a good idea to go after her. You might still
overtake her." Mrs . Kaburagi said this with a bitter smile, obvi­
ously to annoy him.
Yuichi made no reply. The woman said nothing more, but
over her silence the flag of defeat fluttered plainly. Her voice
rose in excitement, almost tearfully. "I've made you angry,
haven't I ? I'm sorry. I have a bad habit of doing mean things
like that." While she spoke, she kept thinking that the next day
Yuichi would deliver the shoes to Kyoko and would explain Mrs.
Kaburagi's lie.
"No, I'm not angry at all. "
Yuichi's smile was like a patch of blue sky on a cloudy day. He
could not have imagined how much strength Mrs. Kaburagi de­
rived from that smile. Drawn by that youthful smile, s o like a
sunflower, she was buoyed to the peak of happiness .
''I'd like to give you something to show y o u h o w sorry I am .
Can we leave ? "
"Never mind being sorry. Anyway, it's raining."
It was an intermittent shower. Since it was night, they couldn't
tell whether it had cleared. A slightly intoxicated man happened
to leave just then; he called out near the doorway : "Oh, it's
stopped. It's stopped raining." Patrons who had come in to seek
shelter from the rain hurried out again into the clear night air.
Urged by Mrs. Kaburagi, Yuichi picked up Kyoko's package and
followed her, turning up the collar of his navy-blue trench coat.
Now, Mrs. Kaburagi's mind busied itself blowing up out of all
proportion the bit of luck that had led her to this h appy en-

( I I 8 ]
 The False Accident and the True

counter. Since that last time she had struggled with jealousy.
Her self-restraint was stronger than that of most men, and it
gave her the power to keep her resolve not to make advances to
him. She started going out for walks all alone. She went to the
movies alone. She ate her meals alone. She had tea alone. She
was alone, but, paradoxically, she felt that she was gaining free­
dom from her emotions.
Nevertheless, wherever she went, Mrs. Kaburagi felt the gaze
of Yuichi's proud contempt following her. That gaze would say :
"Get o n your knees. A t once-down o n your knees before mel"
One day she went to the theater-alone. During the inter­
mission she witnessed the awful crowding in front of the mirror
in the ladies' room. The ladies' faces were almost in collision­
every woman for herself; they pushed out their cheeks, they
pouted their lips, they protruded their foreheads, they stroked
out their eyebrows-so as to apply their rouge , their lipstick,
their eyebrow pencil, to re:}rrange a stray h air, to m ake sure that
the curls so carefully rolled this morning had not committed the
unspeakable sin of coming undone. One woman had shamelessly
taken out her teeth. Another, choking on powder, was making a
terrible face. If one were to put that mirror in a painting, he
would certainly hear the dying screams of slaughtered women
coming from the canvas. Mrs. Kaburagi saw that in all this piti­
able turmoil, her face alone was cool, white , and composed. "Get
on your knees ! Down on your knees l"-blood gushed from her
pride's wounds.
Now, however, drunk with the nectar of submission­
pathetically going so far as to believe that this sweetness was the
boon of her own cunning-she cut into the rain-wet tracks of the
automobiles and across the street. A broad, yellow leaf fallen
from one of the trees along the street clung to the trunk and
fluttered like a moth. A wind had sprung up. Silent, as she had
been on the evening she first met Yuichi at the Hinoki home, she
led him into a certain tailor's. The clerks in the store treated Mrs.
Kaburagi with deference. She had them bring out winter mate­
rials and placed them over Yuichi's shoulders. Thus she was able
to inspect him with care.
"It's uncanny. Any pattern goes well with you," she said, hold­
ing piece after piece of material across his chest. Yuichi was in
despair, imagining that the store clerks thought him a complete
fool. Mrs. Kaburagi chose one pattern, and had them take his

[ 1 19 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

measurements. The old and experienced owner o f the fin n was

amazed at the youth's ideal measurements.
Yuichi thought uneasily of Shunsuke. The old man was surely
still in that tea shop, patiently waiting. Just the same it would
not be good policy to have Mrs. Kaburagi run across Shunsuke
this evening. One could not say, furthermore, where Mrs. Ka­
buragi might still want to go. Yuichi was gradually corning to
need Shunsuke's help less and less, and, like a schoolboy devel­
oping an interest in detested, enforced homework, he was be­
coming infatuated with the excitement of this inhuman comedy
with womankind as antagonist.
In short, the Trojan horse in which Shunsuke had imprisoned
this youth, this replica of the violent power of nature itself, this
fearful mechanism, was miraculously beginning to move.
Whether the fire that had been building up between the two
women would become hotter or cooler was entirely a matter for
Yuichi's pride to decide. His cold rage had begun to assert itself.
He was possessed of a self-confidence completely devoid of com­
passion. He looked at this woman who, having just ordered a
new suit of clothes for him, was now drunk in her small and
conventional joy of giving, and thought how like a monkey she
was. Truthfully, this young man found it impossible to see any
beautiful person, so long as she was a woman, as more than a
monkey.
Mrs. Kaburagi would laugh and be defeated, keep quiet and
be defeated, chatter and be defeated, give things away and be
defeated, from time to time look a� his profile as if stealing and
be defeated, act cheerful and be defeated, pretend despair and
be defeated. Before long this woman who never cried would
even be defeated in tears, of this there was no doubt.
Yuichi flung his coat on roughly; the comb fell out of his
pocket. Before Yuichi or the tailors could retrieve it, Mrs.
Kaburagi nimbly stooped for it. She herself was amazed at her
own condescension.
"Thank you."
"My, it's a big comb ! It looks as if it does the job." Before she
returned it to its owner, she passed it quickly through her hair a
couple of times. The pulling of the hair in the comb made her
eyes twitch a little and brought moisture to the tense outer
corners.
After parting from Mrs. Kaburagi at a bar, Yuichi went to the

[ 1 20 ]
 The FaLse Accident and the True

restaurant where Shunsuke had been waiting, but it was closed.

Rudon's stayed open until the last trolley, so he went there, and
Shunsuke was waiting. Yuichi told all that bad happened. Shun­
suke laughed aloud.
"It's probably best for you to take the shoes home and act as if
you don't know anything about them until you hear from her.
Kyoko will probably call your house and leave word at least by
tomorrow. Now your date with · Kyoko is for October twenty­
ninth, isn't it? That's still a week off. Before that you'd better see
her again, return the shoes, and explain what h appened this
evening. Kyoko is a clever girl, and she undoubtedly saw
through :Mrs. Kaburagi's story right away. Mter that . . ."
Shunsuke paused. He took a calling card from his case and
wrote a simple note of introduction. There was a slight tremor in
his hand. Yuichi looked at that hand, wasted by age, and asso­
ciated with it the pale, somewhat swollen hand of his mother.
These two hands and nothing else had awakened in him a pas­
sion for forced marriages, vice, phoniness and falsehood, and
had induced him to embrace them. These two hands were close
to death, had formed a secret alliance with death. Yuichi sus­
pected that the power that had taken possession of him was the
power of the nether world.
"On the third floor of the N -- Building, in Kyobashi," Shun­
suke said, h anding over the card, "is an establishment that sells
stylish imported women's handkerchiefs. If you show this card
they will sell to Japanese. Buy a half dozen matching handker­
chiefs. All right? Give two of them to Kyoko as a token of
apology. The other four give to Mrs. Kaburagi the next time you
see her. Since coincidences like today's don't happen often, I'll
have to arrange for you and Kyoko and Mrs. Kaburagi to get
together. Then those handkerchiefs will really h ave a part to
play.
"Next, I have a pair of agate earrings at home that belonged
to my dead wife. I'll give those to you. Then I'll show you how
we'll use them. Now, just wait and see. Each of the women will
come to think you're intimate with the other and that she is
being left out. Let's add a handkerchief for your wife. She'll
think you're carrying on with these two women. That's just what
we want. Your freedom in real life will then be a clear road
before you."
At this time at Rudon's the activity seemed to be at its height.

[ 121 ]
 FORBIDDEN C O L ORS

The youths at the rear tables were laughing over their endless
dirty stories. If the topic happened to come around to women,
however, the listeners all knitted their brows and looked
askance. Rudy, unable to wait until I I p.m . , when his young
lover arrived every other day, stifled a yawn and glanced inter­
mittently toward the door. Shunsuke yawned in sympathy. His
yawn was clearly different from Rudy's- a rather sickly yawn.
When he closed his mouth, his false teeth clashed. This sound
echoing within the core of his body frightened him terribly. He
felt as if he was hearing from his insides the unhappy sound of
the violation of his flesh by matter. Flesh is at heart matter. The
sound of his false teeth clashing was nothing more than a clear
revelation of the real nature of his flesh.
It's my body, but I'm already somebody else, Shunsuke
thought.
More important, my soul is somebody else. He stole a look at
the beautiful face of Yuichi. The form of my soul, at least, is as
beautiful as this.

Yuichi carne horne late so frequently that Yasuko exhausted

herself working up all kinds of suspicions about her husband.
She finally decided simply to believe him, but that decision was
of late causing her undeniable pain.
In the character of Yuichi, Yasuko saw a nameless riddle. That
riddle, rather involved with the side of him that seemed easy to
understand, was somehow not easy to solve. One morning he
saw a cartoon in the newspaper and burst out laughing, but
Yasuko, who carne over to look , couldn't figure out what he saw
that was humorous in that not-at-all-funny cartoon. He started to
explain, blurting out : "The day before yesterday-" and closed
his mouth. He had thoughtlessly started to mention one of the
topics of conversation at Rudy's.
At times Yuichi seemed quite frustrated, filled with pain.
Yasuko would wish to find out the reasons for his pain, but the
next moment Yuichi would explain that he had eaten too much
c ake and his stomach ached.
Her husband's eyes seemed constantly to be yearning for
something. Yasuko went so far as to believe that it was his poetic
nature. He was morbidly fastidious about the rumors and gossip

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 The False Accident and the True

of society at large. Belying the good opinion of her parents, he

seemed to have a strange prejudice against society. A thinking
man seems to be a mysterious thing in a woman's eyes. Woman
can face death refusing to say anything like, "I adore snakes."
One day the following happened : Yuichi was away at school.
His mother was taking a nap; Kiyo had gone shopping. Yasuko
was at the end of the veranda, knitting. She was knitting a
winter jacket for Yuichi. _

The front door bell rang. Yasuko got up, went down to the
entrance, and unlocked the door, kneeling to greet the visitor. A
student carrying a Boston bag entered. She did not know him.
He smiled affably and bowed; then he closed the door behind
him. He said : "I go to the same school as your husband and I'm
working my way. How would you like some very nice imported
soap ? "
"Soap? We have enough right now."
"Don't say that until you've seen this. Once you see it, you'll
surely want it."
The student turned his back and, without a by-your-leave, sat
down on the step leading into the house. The black serge of his
back and the seat of his trousers shone with age. He opened his
bag and took out a sample of soap in a gaudy wrapper.
Yasuko said again she didn't need any, that he would have to
wait until her husband came home. The student laughed as if
there were something funny about that. He handed the sample
to Yasuko to smell. Yasuko took it and the student grasped her
hand. About to cry out, Yasuko looked the youth in the eye. He
laughed, undaunted. She started to scream, but he covered her
mouth. Yasuko struggled fiercely.
As luck would have it, Yuichi appeared. His lecture had been
canceled. As he was about to ring the bell, he sensed that some­
thing was wrong. His eyes were accustomed to the light outside,
and for a moment he did not discern in the half darkness a
writhing, obscure shape. There was one point of light-the wide­
open eye of Yasuko, resisting, straining every muscle to free
herself, yet joyfully welcoming her husband's return. Heartened,
she sprang to her feet. The student also got up.
He saw Yuichi and attempted to squeeze past him and escape,
but he was caught by the wrist. Yuichi pulled him out into the
front yard. He hit him squarely in the jaw with his fist. The
student fell flat on his back in the shrubbery around the well.

[ 1 23 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

Yuichi struck him in the face again and again.

This, to Yasuko, was an incident she would never forget.
That night Yuichi stayed home. She believed in his love com­
pletely. And no wonder. Yuichi had protected Yasuko because
he loved her. Yuichi guarded peace and order because he loved
his home.
This strong-bodied, reliable husband did not talk to his
mother about what he had done. Why, she did not know, but
there was something embarrassing to him about the secret rea­
sons for displaying his strength. There were two reasons. First,
that student was beautiful. Second-and to Yuichi this was the
most difficult reason to assert-that student had offended him by
revealing at close quarters the painful truth of how much he
desired woman.
It so happened that Yasuko did not menstruate during
October.

( I24 ]
 CHAPTER II

FAMILY R I T UAL :
TEA WITH RICE

ON THE TENTH of November, when his classes were done,

Yuichi took the suburban car and met his wife at one of the
stations. Because they had a visit to make, he had worn a suit to
school.
Through the introduction of his mother's attending physician,
they were going to the home of a famous gynecologist, a man in
the early autumn of his years, head of the gynecology depart­
ment, who went to the University Hospital four days a week. On
Wednesdays and Fridays he was at home, where he had a fully
equipped examination room.
Yuichi hesitated for a long time over whether he would do any
good by coming along. Her mother should have been the one to
accompany her. Yasuko, however, wheedled him into coming,
and he didn't see how he could refuse.
Cars were parked in front of the doctor's quietly elegant
Western-style home. In the dim living room, by the fireplace,
they waited their turn.
It had been a frosty morning. The afternoon was particularly
cold. The fireplace had been lit. The air smelled faintly of the
white bearskin on the hearth. On a table a large cloisonne vase
overflowed with yellow chrysanthemums. The room was quite
dark, and the flames of the fire came warmly off the dark-green
surface of the vase.
Four people were seated in the living room when they en­
tere d : a middle-aged lady accompanied by her servant and a

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 F O R B I D D EN C O L O RS

young woman with her mother. The middle-aged lady's hair

looked as if she had just come from the beauty parlor, and she
held her face as if she was afraid to disturb her heavy makeup.
This face encased in white powder looked as if cracks would
open up on the skin if she so much as smiled. Her little eyes
peered from behind a wall of powder. Her '1acquer" kimono
spattered with blue shells, her sash, her jacket, her huge dia­
mond ring were all slightly suggestive of a costume in accord
with the current notion of what was extravagant . She had a copy
of Life open in her lap. Ostentatiously she brought her eyes close
to the small type of the captions and moved her lips as she read.
She had a habit of flicking away nonexistent stray hairs as if she
were brushing cobwebs. In the chair behind her waited her
maid, who when addressed by her mistress would answer, "Yes,"
with a look as if her life depended on it.
The members of the other party glanced at these two every
once in a while as if they despised them. The daughter was
wearing a large purple arrow-feather pattern, the mother, a
striped crepe in a waterfall design. The girl-one could not tell
whether she was married-frequently exposed a white ann,
poised a fist like the paw of a young fox, tilted her head to the
side, and glanced at her tiny gold watch.
Yasuko saw and heard nothing. Though she strained her eyes
to look at the gas flame in the fireplace, it cannot be said she saw
it. For several days she had seemed not to be concerned with
anything but this headache and nausea, a slight fever and dizzi­
ness, and a peculiar throbbing sensation that had suddenly
seized her. Engrossed in this welter of symptoms, her expression
seemed artless and earnest, like a rabbit with its nose buried in
its feed trough.
When the two earlier patients had left, and Yasuko's turn had
come, she pleaded with Yuichi to accompany her to the exami­
nation room . They passed down the hallway heavy with
disinfectant. A cold breeze drifting in from the hall made Yasuko
shiver.
"Come in," called a calm, professorial voice from within.
The doctor had the look of a figure in a portrait as he sat in his
chair leaning toward the door. With a hand white and dehy­
drated from being dipped in disinfectant, bony and abstract, as
it were, he indicated where his visitors might sit down. Yuichi
gave the name of their mutual friend and introduced himself.

[ 126 ]
 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice

Shining in a row on the table like a dentist's tools were forceps

used in curettage. The first thing that struck the eye on entering,
however, was the examination table, its form designed with a
special cruelty. It was an abnormal, unnatural fonn. The bed
was higher than usual, with the lower half raised . On each side,
swinging up diagonally right and left, leather stirrups had been
fitted. Yuichi thought of the acrobatic figures of the young lady
and the affected middle-aged woman which had just before oc­
cupied that machine. That odd bed took the fonn of destiny, one
might say. Why? Because in the presence of that shape, the
diamond ring, the perfume, the kimono splattered with shiny
blue shells, the purple arrow-feather pattern were useless,
powerless to resist it. Yuichi shuddered, thinking of Yasuko
being fitted to the cold obscenity that unfeeling, implacable iron
contrivance was charged with. He thought that he himself was
like that bed. Yasuko deliberately kept her eyes from the bed
and sat down.
Yuichi offered a word now and then as she described her
symptoms. The doctor signaled to him with his eyes. Yuichi left
Yasuko in the examination room and returned to the reception
room. It was empty. He sat down in an easy chair. He was not
comfortable. He sat down in a wooden annchair. He was still
not comfortable. He could not rid his mind of the idea of Yasuko
lying on her back on the table.
He leaned his elbow on the mantelpiece. Then he took from
his inside pocket two letters that had come to him this morning
and that he had previously read at school. One was from Kyoko.
The other was from Mrs. Kaburagi. It happened that both let­
ters, with roughly the same contents, were delivered at the same
time. He read them a second time.
Since that rainy day, Yuichi had met Kyoko three times and
Mrs. Kaburagi twice. On the most recent occasion he had seen
them both at the same time. Of course, neither of the women
knew the other would be there . It was all Shunsuke's idea.
Yuichi reread Kyoko's letter first. The lines overflowed with an
indignation that gave a mannish strength to the handwriting.
"You are teasing me," Kyoko wrote. "I have managed to keep
myself from believing that you are deceiving me. When you
returned my shoes, you gave me two rare handkerchiefs. I was
very happy and have had them washed over and over and al­
ways carry one in my handbag. Nevertheless, when I saw Mrs.

[ 1 .z 7 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

Kaburagi again the other day, that person was using one of the
same handkerchiefs. She and I recognized this immediately, but
we said nothing. Women are quick to notice what other mem­
bers of their sex own. Besides, h andkerchiefs are bought a
half dozen or a dozen at a time. Did you give her four and me
two? Or did you give her two and some other unknown person
two?
"Regardless, I am not thinking about the business of the hand­
kerchiefs particularly now. What I am going to say is very diffi­
cult to express, but since the other day when you, Mrs. Kaburagi
and I, the three of us, happened accidentally to come together
(the second time I had run into Mrs. Kaburagi since the day,
whenever it was, I bought my shoes-an amazing coincidence ! ) ,
I have been tortured by something t o the extent that I can't even
eat.
"When I met you at that time I should have been at the
Foreign Office reception, and we were in the dining room at the
Fugu restaurant, you lit my cigarette. When you took your
lighter out of your pocket, an earring dropped on the tatami.
'Hrn, is that your wife's earring?' I said immediately. You said
'Uh-huh,' and put it back in your pocket without opening your
mouth . I soon came to regret the carelessness and the haste with
which I commented on that discovery. Why? Because I was very
much aware that my tone was filled with jealousy.
"Thus, when I saw Mrs. Kaburagi the second time, how
shocked I was when I saw that person with the s ame earring
hanging from her ear l Mter that I didn't open my mouth again,
no matter what people may have thought, which must have put
you out.
"I suffered terribly before I made up my mind to send this
letter. If it had been a glove or a compact, it wouldn't h ave been
so bad, but for one earring to get into a gentleman's pocket is a
serious thing, as far as I can see. I am a woman who has come to
be praised for not letting annoying things get on her nerves, and
I don't know why I am suffering so much as I am in this in­
stance. Won't you please do something right away to dispel my
childish doubts? Even if not out of love, out of friendship at
least, willyou please not overlook the pain of this woman carried
away by terrible doubt? It is in this hope that I have written. As
soon as you get this letter, won't you call me? Until you call me,
I shall stay horne every day, pleading a headache."

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 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice

Mrs. Kaburagi's letter went as follows :

"That practical joke of the other day was in bad taste. I did
some quick figuring. If you gave me four handkerchiefs, and you
gave Kyoko four, that leaves four. I would like to think you gave
them to your wife, but I'm not sure about you.
"I was sad, however, to see that the affair of the handkerchiefs
took all the joy out of Kyoko. She's a sweet girl, isn't she? Her
dream that she is the only person in the world loved by Yuichi
was broken.
"Thank you for the expensive gift you gave me the other day.
It's a little old-fashioned, but that agate is a lovely stone. Thanks
to it, everybody praises the earring and goes from that to prais­
ing the shape of my ear. If you gave it to me in return for the
suit, you're pretty old-fashioned, too. All a man like you has to
do to make a woman happy is simply take what she gives him.
"The tailors will finish the suit in two or three days, won't
they? Please show it to me the first day you put it on. And let me
pick out a necktie, too.
"P.S. Since the other day, for no reason at all, I have devel­
oped some self-confidence where Kyoko is concerned. Why? It
may be annoying to you, but I foresee that I am going to win
this shogi game I'm playing."

"When I compare these two letters, I understand," Yuichi

said to himself. "Kyoko, who seems to h ave no confidence, is
confident; Mrs. Kaburagi, who seems so confident, has none.
Kyoko does not hide her misgivings, but it's plain as day that
Mrs. Kaburagi is hiding hers. It's just as Shunsuke said. Kyoko is
gradually becoming more confident that Mrs. Kaburagi and I are
having an affair. Mrs. Kaburagi is gradually becoming more con­
fident that Kyoko and I are having an affair. Each is afraid that
she will be the one whose body won't be touched."
The only woman's body this marble youth would touch with
his hand now had inserted in it two dried-up, cool, lysol-scented
fingers of a man, like the fingers of a gardener thrust into the soil
while transplanting a flower. The other dried-up hand was mea­
suring the mass of internal organs externally. The root of life, as
big as a goose egg, was touching the warm earth inside. Next,
the doctor, as if he were picking up a shovel to dig in a luxurious

[ 1 29 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

fiowerbed, took a uterine mirror from the hand o f the nurse.

The examination was over. The doctor rinsed his hands and
turned to his patient the face wearing the smile of human dedi·
cation. "Congratulations," he said.
Dubious, Yasuko was silent. The head of the gynecology de­
partment had the nurse call Yuichi. He came in. The doctor said
it again : "Congratulations. Your wife is two months pregnant.
She conceived in the very first days of your marriage. The moth­
er's body is healthy; everything is normal. So don't worry. But
even if she doesn't want to eat, she will have to. If she doesn't
eat, she's apt to get constipated, and if she gets constipated,
toxins will accumulate and that's not good. So I want her to have
every day a shot of vitamin B1 in a grape-sugar base. Don't
worry about morning sickness. Get as much rest as possible . . ."
After that he winked at Yuichi, adding, "That business doesn't
hurt at all. At any rate, congratulations," the doctor went on ,
comparing the two with his eyes. "You're a model couple, as the
eugenicists would see it. Eugenics is the only branch of study
that has hope for the future of mankind. I shall be delighted to
see your child."
Yasuko was calm. It \Vas a curious calm. Like an innocent
husband, Yuichi looked at the area of his \vife's womb bewil­
deredly. A strange vision made his body quiver. His wife was
holding a mirror in the region of her abdomen ; from that mirror,
he felt, his own face was looking fixedly out at him.
It wasn't a mirror. It h appened that the western sun was
coming through the window, falling on her deep-red skirt and
Tefiecting from it ; that was all. Yuichi's fear was like the fear of a
husband who had made his wife sick.
"Congratulations !" On the way back, he fancied he heard that
greeting again and again. Up to now it had been repeated count·
less times. After this it would be repeated countless times. He
felt as if he was hearing the hollmv sound of it like a litany. It
would be better to say that what was ringing in his ears was not
a congratulatory message but a droning of curses.
Even without desire a child is born. In the illegitimate child,
born only from desire, there appears a paradoxical beauty; but
in the child born from lack of desire , how unlucky must the
features be l In artificial insemination, the sperm is that of a
heterosexual man. Eugenics, the idea of social improvement that
disregards desire-Yuichi hated the chairman of the gynecology

[ I30 )
 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice

department's beautiful white hair showered with experience.

The humble, healthy attitude Yuichi had toward society was
based on the fact that his special society had no sense of reality.
The couple shrank from the wind that gathered in the wester­
ing sun and walked with coat collars turned up, leaning toward
each other. Yasuko linked her arm in Yuichi's ; the warmth of
their anns mingled through layers of clothing. What was it that
was now keeping their hearts apart? The heart has no body; it
has no way of linking arms. Yuichi and Yasuko feared the mo­
ment when their nameless accusations would be shouted out. In
womanish haste, Yasuko rebelled against this mutual taboo.
"Well, should I be happy?"
Yuichi could not bear to look directly at his wife's face when
she said that. All he had to do, he knew, was shout loudly and
cheerfully, without looking at Yasuko : "Of course ! Congratula­
tions !" A figure happened to be approaching them, however, and
he lapsed into silence.
There were very few pedestrians on the suburban street. On
the pebbly white roadbed the jutting and sinking shadows of the
rooftops continued as far as the black-and-white grade crossing,
mounting off at an angle. Toward them came a Spitz led by a
boy in a sweater. Half the boy's white face glowed red from the
rays of the setting sun, but as he came nearer it was plain that
purplish-red fire scars covered that cheek. The boy averted his
face in passing, but Yuichi thought of the color of the fire in the
distance and the fire sirens which so many times appeared be­
fore him in moments of desire. The scandalous sentiment of
eugenics occurred to him once more. Finally, he said : "Yes, be
h appy. Congratulations."
Yasuko was disheartened by the echo of unmistakable protest
in her husband's words.

Yuichi's behavior was buried in obscurity. It was buried

like the behavior of a magnificent philanthropist. However, the
thin smile of self-satisfaction of the anonymously charitable
philanthropist did not hover about his mouth.
In his youthfulness, he was pained by the lack of an outlet for
his energies in daytime society. Was there anything more boring
than becoming a paragon of morals and manners without ex-

( I3I ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

pending any effort? Through the unbearable pain of being able

to remain chaste without effort he learned how to h ate women as
well as morality. The men and women joined by affection that
he once looked upon with eyes of envy he now saw with the
darkly piercing eye of jealousy. He was sometimes amazed at the
depth of reticence he had been driven into. About his nighttime
behavior, he kept the marble silence of an immovable statue, but
like a real statue, he was imprisoned in his form.
Yasuko's pregnancy fille d life in the Minami household with
activity, thanks to a sudden visit and a dinner m ade joyful by the
Segawa family. That same night his mother remarked about the
restlessness he showed by his desire to go out : "What more can
you wish for?" she said. "You h ave a beautiful, sweet bride, and
tonight we're going to celebrate the conception of your first
child." Yuichi answered somewhat cheerfully that he had every­
thing he wanted, which made his good-tempered mother feel
that her son was being sarcastic.
"What's causing it? Before he got married he never went out,
so that his mother worried about it. Since he got married, on the
other hand, he's always walking off, h aving a good time. No, it's
not your doing, Yasuko. It's surely so many bad friends he's
made. Look how his friends never come around here." Keeping
Yasuko's family in mind, she half-blamed, half-defended her son
before his wife.
Needless to say, the h appiness of her son took most of the
attention of his outspoken mother. When we plot the happiness
of another, we unconsciously impute to the other person what is
in another form the dream in which our own h appiness is ful­
fille d. Thus by not thinking of our own h appiness we make it
possible for ourselves to become egotistic. She thought Yasuko
was to blame for the life of dissipation Yuichi led immediately
after his m arriage. With the news of Yasuko's pregnancy all her
doubts were cleared away. "From now on, he'll quiet down," she
said, even to Yasuko. "That child is becoming a father."
Her kidneys had mended somewhat, but now various cares
caused her again to wish for death. Now, however, the fatal
illness refused to come. What tortured her was not Yasuko's
unhappiness so much as-thanks to her maternal egoism-the
unhappiness of her son. But the fear that this marriage based on
impulses of duty was to Yuichi a forced marriage was the deep­
est root of the mother's anxiety and remorse.

[ 132 ]
 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice

She decided that before some catastrophe occurred in the

household she must act as peacemaker. She therefore gently in­
structed the bride not to let them hear at home about Yuichi's
philandering and attempted simply to skirt the subject with her
son.
"Now if there's anything bothering you that you can't tell
anybody about, any sexual problem, please tell me and we'll see.
It's all right ; I won't tell Yasuko. I foresee that if we keep on as
we are something ter.rible is going to happen."
These words, spoken before the news of Yasuko's pregnancy,
made his mother look like a sorceress in Yuichi's eyes. Every
household is surely pregnant with some misfortune. The fair
wind that propels the sailing ship along the sea lanes is basically
the same as the terrible gale that leads it to destruction. The
home and the family are propelled by neutralized misfortune as
by a favorable wind. In the comer of so many famous family
portraits, the hand of misfortune is sharply outlined, like a signa­
ture.
In this way my family perhaps enters the class of healthy
families, Yuichi thought, when he was in an optimistic mood.
As usual, the management of the Minami fortunes was placed
in the hands of Yuichi. His mother, who never in her wildest
dreams suspected that Shunsuke had presented them with
soo,ooo yen, was continually ashamed of the marriage portion
given by the Segawa family. How could she know that not a sen
of their own 35o,ooo yen had been touched ! Oddly enough,
Yuichi had a good head for business. He had a high school friend
who worked in a bank. The 2oo,o o o yen of Shunsuke's money
that Yuichi invested with him for under·the-table loans was
bringing in 1 2,ooo yen a month interest. At present there was
nothing dangerous about investments of this kind.
A school friend of Yasuko's had become a mother at a young
age the year before, but she lost the child, Yasuko was informed,
because of polio. Yuichi's joy when he heard about this made
Yasuko's steps heavy when she went to pay her condolences. She
felt that the beautiful but dark eyes of her husband had a hint of
raillery in them , as if to say, "See ! See !"
How often another's misfortune is our good fortune ! The al­
terations from time to time and moment to moment in ardent
love show this formula in its purest form, yet even so in Yasuko's
passionate head there was the suspicion that nothing consoled

[ IH ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

her husband so much as misfortune. Yuichi's thinking about for­

tune was quite unsystematic. He did not believe in what is called
lasting h appiness; in his heart, it seemed, he secretly feared it.
When he saw something supposed to be lasting, terror gripped
him.
One day they went shopping in Yasuko's father's department
store, and Yasuko stopped for a fairly long time at the baby­
c arriage section on the fourth floor. Bored, Yuichi prodded his
wife by applying a slightly urgent pressure to her arm, which she
obstinately disregarded. He pretended not to see the look of
anger that Yasuko flashed at him. In the bus on the way horne
she cooed incessantly at the infant who leaned toward her affe c­
tionately from the next seat. There was nothing pretty about this
poor, dirty, slobbering child.
"Children are cute, aren't they?" Yasuko said to Yuichi, inclin­
ing her head coquettishly closer to him as the mother got off.
"What's the rush ? It won't be born until summer."
Yasuko fell silent again. Tears hung in her eyes. Any husband,
even one quite unlike Yuichi, would have found it natural to
tease her about this early manifestation of mother love. Surely
this way of showing her feeling was devoid of naturalness. Not
only that, there was a certain boastfulness in it, with, in fact, a
note of reproach in the boastfulness.
One evening she was seized by a terrible headache and took to
her bed; Yuichi stayed horne with her. She felt nauseous and her
heart was palpitating. While they waited for the doctor, Kiyo
applied cold compresses to cool the patient's abdomen. Yuichi's
mother carne in to calm her son, saying, "Don't worry. When I
was c arrying you, my morning sickness was awful. Maybe I just
like odd things, but when we opened a bottle of wine, I sud­
denly wanted to eat the cork. It seemed like a mushroom ."
It was nearly ten o'clock when the doctor finished his rounds
and Yuichi was left alone with Yasuko in the sickroom. The
blood reviving in her pallid cheeks made her look fresher than
usual, and her white forearms, extended languidly from the
quilt, were charming in the shadowy lamplight.
"It's hard, but when I realize that I'm suffering for our child,
it's nothing," she said, lifting her hand to Yuichi's forehead and
playing with a lock of h air. Yuichi let her do it. A cruel tender­
ness was born unexpectedly in him , and his lips were suddenly
held against Yasuko's still-feverish lips. In a tone that would

[ 134 ]
 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice

make any woman confess whether she wished to or not, he

asked : "You really want this child, don't you? Yet, admit it; it's a
little early for maternal affection. If there's something you want
to tell me, go ahead."
Yasuko's tired, pain-filled eyes overflowed with tears as if they
had been waiting long for this opportunity. Nothing moves a
man like a woman's self-indulgent tears, accompanied by certain
sentimentally evoked confessions : "If we have a baby-" Yasuko
said, hesitantly at first, "if we have a baby, I don't think you'll
leave me."
It was at this time that Yuichi arrived at the idea of an abor­
tion.

The public stared in wonder at the rejuvenation of Shun­

suke and the return of his old dandyish h abits of dress. At heart
the works of Shunsuke's old age had a freshness about them. But
it was not the freshness appearing in the evening years of an
outstanding artist, but an overripe freshness as of something
malignant that keeps growing and never m atures. In the strict
sense of the word, he could not be rejuvenated. If he were it
would be the death of him. He poss€ssed absolutely no powers
related to life, and his total lack of esthetic sense was perhaps
the reason for his habit of dress. Harmony between the esthetics
of artistic creation and taste in daily life is commonly called
for in our country. This nonsense to which Shunsuke had lent
himself made the public, unaware of the influence of the morals
of Ruden's, just a little suspicious of the old m an's sanity.
Moreover, in Shunsuke's life a nameless, evanescent aura had
come into being. From his speech and conduct that had formerly
been far from humorous, a false lightness-to be exact, a light­
headedness-seemed to show itself. The self-induced pains of
rejuvenation were greeted with joy by his readers. His works
were in steady demand. Word about the strange novelty of his
psychological condition spurred the sales. Not even the keenest
critic, or even the friend most blessed with insight, was able to
discern the real cause of Shunsuke's transformation. The cause
was simple. Shunsuke had come into possession of an idea.
On that summer day when he saw the youth appear in the
foam on the beach, for the first time in his life an idea had come

[ r 1r J
 F O RBIDD EN C O L O R S

to dwell i n his mind. T o cure diseases o f life h e would impart the

steely health of death. This was what, in artistic productions,
Shunsuke had always dreamed of as the ideal manifestation.
In artistic works, there is a twofold possibility of existence, he
believed. Just as an ancient lotus seed will flower again when
dug up and replanted, the wor.k of art that is said to possess
everlasting life can live again in the hearts of all times, all coun­
tries. When one touches an ancient work-of space art, or time
art-his life is captured by the space or the time of the wor.k and
abandons the rest of its existence. He lives another life. How­
ever, the internal time which he expends in this other life has
already been measured, already settled upon. That is what we
call form.
It is, however, usual that form is lacking in human experience
and in influence on human life. To clothe formless experience
with form and offer, as it were, human life in a ready-made suit
of clothes is what the work of art attempts to do, the naturalistic
school believes. Shunsuke did not agree. Form was the inborn
destiny of art. One had to believe that the human experience
within a work and real-life human experience are different in
dimension, depending on whether form is present or not. Within
real-life human experience, however, there is something that is
very close to what is experienced in a work. What is it? It is the
impression accorded by death. We cannot experience death , but
we sometimes experience the impression of it. We experience the
idea of death in a death in the family, in the death of a loved
one. In sum, death is the unique form of life.
Doesn't the drive of the book that makes us so strongly con­
scious of life impel us because it is the drive of death? Shun­
suke's Eastern vision sometimes leaned toward death. In the
Orient, death is many times more vivid than life. The artistic
work, as Shunsuke saw it, was a kind of refined death. It had a
peculiar power to permit life to touch and experience death in
advance.
Internal existence is life; objective existence is nothing but
death or nothingness. These two forms of existence bring the
work of art terribly close to natural beauty. He was convinced
that a work of art, like nature, absolutely must not have soul.
Much less thought ! Through lack of soul, soul is verified;
through the absence of thought, thought is verified; through the
lack of life, life is verified. This indeed is the paradoxical mission

[ 136 ]
 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice

of the work of art. In tum it is the mission-making characteristic

of beauty.
Therefore is not creativity nothing more than the imitation of
the creative powers of nature? For this question Shunsuke had
a bitter reply in readiness.
Nature is a living thing; it is not a created thing. Creativity is
that action that exists in order to make nature doubt its own
birth. For creativity is, in the final analysis, a method of nature.
That was his answer.
That's right. Shunsuke was method personified. What Shun­
suke asked of Yuichi was that he be permitted to take the beauti­
ful young man's natural youth and make it into a work of art; to
take the various weaknesses of youth and to make them some­
thing stronger, like death; to take the various powers by which
he influenced his environment and make them into destructive
powers like the power of nature-inorganic powers, devoid of
anything human.
Yuichi's existence, like a work in process of creation, never left
the thoughts of the writer. It had got so that a day that went by
when he didn't hear that clear, youthful voice, if only over the
phone, was an unhappy cloudy day. Yuichi's voice, filled with
clarity and golden grace, was like a brilliant ray filtering through
the clouds. It poured into the desolate soil of his genius. It
brightened the configurations of those stones, that overgrown
vegetation. It made it a slightly less unbearable place to reside
in.
Using Rudon's as a means of getting in touch with Yuichi
from time to time, Shunsuke pretended, as at first, to be one of
the denizens of that street. He became conversant in the patois ;
he learned all the subtleties of the wink. A small unexpected ro­
mance pleased him. One melancholy-featured young man con­
fessed to being in love with him. His twisted tendency among
twisted tendencies led him to feel affection only for men who
were sixty or older.
Shunsuke got into the habit of appearing with young homo­
sexuals in various teahouses and Western restaurants here and
there. He became aware of the subtle shift in years from adoles­
cence to maturity, with momentary changes in color like the
evening sky. Maturity was the sunset of beauty. From eighteen
to twenty-five years the beauty of him who is loved subtly alters
its form. The first glow of sunset, when every cloud in the sky

[ 137 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

takes on the color of sweet fresh fruit, symbolizes the color of the
cheeks of the boy between eighteen and twenty, the soft nape of
his neck, the fresh blueness of his shaved collar line and his lips
like a girl's. When the sunset glow reaches its peak and the
clouds blaze many-colored and the sky goes mad with an ex­
pression of joy, one thinks of the blossom time of youth, from
twenty to twenty-three. Then his look is somewhat fierce, his
cheeks are taut, his mouth is gradually making plain the will of
the man. At the same time, in the color still glowing shyly in his
cheek, and in the soft streamlining of his brows, traces of the
evanescent moment of a boy's beauty can be seen. Finally, the
time when the burnt-out clouds take on a grave complexion and
the setting sun tosses its remaining beams like hair is compara­
ble to age twenty-four or twenty-five when, though his eyes are
replete with pure gleams, in his cheeks are seen a beauty tran­
scending the severity of its stern masculine will.
It must be said in all honesty that Shunsuke, while noting the
various charms of the boys who consorted with him, was not
sexually excited by any of them. He wondered if Yuichi, sur­
rounded by women whom he did not love, might feel this way
too. Whenever he thought of Yuichi alone, the old man's heart
palpitated somewhat, although without sexual overtones. When
Yuichi was not there, he would bring up his name, whereupon
memories of joy and sadness flitted across the eyes of the boys.
When he asked about it he found that Yuichi had had relations
with each of them but had broken with them after two or three
encounters.
A telephone call came from Yuichi. He asked if he might visit
the next day. Thanks to that call, Shunsuke's first neuralgia at­
tack of the winter, which was troubling him at the time, was
relieved.
The next day was a mild Indian summer day, and Shunsuke
found a sunny spot on the veranda off the living room and read a
little while out of Childe Harold. Byron always amused him.
While he was thus occupied, four or five callers came by. Then
the maidservant announced Yuichi's arrival. With a sour look
like that of an attorney taking up an unpleasant case, Shunsuke
apologized to his guests. Not one of them went so far as to
imagine that the new "very important" guest being conducted to
the second-floor study was still a mere student, not even singled
out for his brains.

( I 38 ]
 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice

In the study there was a sofa that served also as a window

seat, with five cushions painted in Ryukyu style in a continuous
pattern. On the knickknack shelves lining the three sides of the
bay window, a collection of old ceramics was h aphazardly as­
sembled. In one compartment stood a truly beautiful totem doll
of ancient craftsmanship. The collection had no visible order or
discipline, being made up altogether of gifts.
Yuichi sat in the bay window wearing the new suit given him
by Mrs. Kaburagi, and the early winter sun coming through the
windows like steaming water made the black-lacquered waves of
his h air glisten. He saw no seasonal flowers in the room-not a
sign of life anywhere. There was only a black marble mantel
clock gloomily keeping time. Yuichi reached for the old leather­
bound foreign book on the table at hand. It was a volume of
Pater's Miscellaneous Studies, published by Macmillan. Here
and there in the "Apollo of Picardy" were Shunsuke's underlin­
ings. Beside it were the two volumes of the Ojoyoshu -the
-
Texts on Death and an oversize edition of Aubrey Beardsley
prints.
When Shunsuke looked at Yuichi standing to greet him in
front of the bay window, he almost shuddered. He felt that his
heart was undoubtedly in love with this beautiful youth.
:Might his performances at Rudon's have deceived him ( just
as Yuichi's acting led him at times to feel he was in love with
a woman ) and forced him into some improbable delusion?
Somewhat dazzled, he blinked. There was something abrupt
about what he then imparted to Yuichi, as he s ank down beside
him. He said that his neuralgia had been bothering him, but
perhaps because of the change in the weather it caused no pain
today. It was as if he had a barometer h anging at his right knee.
He could tell in the morning whether it was going to snow.
Yuichi found it difficult to continue the conversation, so Shun­
suke complimented him on his suit. When he heard who had
given it to him, he said, "Well, that woman blackmailed me for
three hundred thousand yen. If you got her to give you a suit, my
books are coming remarkably into balance. Next time, give her a
kiss for good measure."
This remark, coming from Shunsuke's h abit of never missing
an opportunity to spit upon mankind, was always good medicine
for Yuichi, who for a long time had feared mankind.
"Now, what was your business ?"

[ 139 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

"It's about Yasuko."

"Yes, you told me she's pregnant."
"Yes, and-" The youth hesitated. '1 wanted to get your
advice."
"And you want an abortion, don't you?" This straightforward
question made Yuichi's eyes open wide. "But why, after all? I
spoke to a psychiatrist who told me that tendencies like yours
are not felt to be hereditary. You have nothing to fear on that
score."
Yuichi was silent. He hadn't even told himself his real reasons
for considering an abortion. If his wife really wanted a child,
perhaps he would not have hit upon this stratagem. There was
no doubt that his present motivation was the fear that she
wanted something more. From this fear Yuichi wiEhed to free
himself. To accomplish that, he must :firGt free his wife. Preg­
nancy and maternity were binding. They denied liberation. The
youth said, half in anger : "That's not so; that's not the reason."
"Then why?" Shunsuke's question was calm, as if spoken by a
physician.
"For Yasuko's happiness, I felt that was the best."
"What are you saying?" The old man threw his head back and
laughed. "For Yasuko's happiness? For a woman's happiness?
You , who do not love women, take into account a woman's
happiness?"
"That's the reason. That's why we must have an abortion . . . if
we do, the bond between us will be gone. If Yasuko wants a
divorce, she'll always be able to divorce me. That will bring her
happiness in the end."
"Is your feeling based on human kindness? On benevolence?
Or on egoism ? On weakness of will? I'm amazed. I never
thought I'd hear such trite sentiments from you."
The old man was ugly in his anger. His hands trembled more
violently than usual. He rubbed his palms together uneasily. As
he did so, they made a dry, gritty sound. He nervously riffled
through the pages of the Texts on Death, which he had been
holding all the time, and closed the volume.
"You've forgotten what I said. This is what I told you. You
must think of a woman as inanimate matter. Never acknowledge
that a woman has a soul. That's what made me lose out. I refuse
to believe you're going to make the same mistake I made. You,
who do not love women ! You should have been ready for that

[ 1 40 ]
 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice

when you got married. A woman's happiness? Nonsense ! You

feel sorry for her? Nonsense I How can you feel sorry for a bun­
dle of sticks? By looking at her as a bundle of sticks you man­
aged to get married, didn't you? Listen to me, Yuchan-"
This spiritual father looked earnestly at his beautiful son. His
old eyes were faded. When they attempted to look fixedly at
something, anguished wrinkles stood out beneath them. "You
must not fear life. You must make up your mind that pain and
unhappiness will never come to you. Never to take on responsi­
bility or duty is the moral code of beauty. Beauty has no time to
assume responsibility for each and every unforeseen effect of iis
powers. Beauty has no time to think of happiness or things of
that sort. Particularly not the happiness of other people. For that
reason, however, beauty has the power to make suffering, even
dying men happy."
"I now understand," said Yuichi, "why you are against an
abortion. That way you think Yasuko won't suffer enough, don't
you? In order to get her into a predicament where she cannot
divorce me even if she wants to, the best way, you think, is for
her to have a child. I think Yasuko has suffered enough now. She
is my wife. I'll return you the five hundred thousand yen."
"Again you're contradicting yourself. What do you mean by
saying 'Yasuko is my wife ; I must take pains to see that she can
divorce me with ease'? You are afraid to see Yasuko suffering at
your side all your life."
"How about my suffering? I am suffering now. I am certainly
not happy."
"Forget about what makes you feel guilty, what makes you
feel pain and remorse. Yuchan, open your eyes l You are abso­
lutely innocent. You didn't act out of desire. Guilt is the season­
ing of desire. You only tasted the seasoning and now you make a
sour face. Why do you want to divorce Yasuko?"
''I'd like to be free. To tell the tmth , I myself don't know why
I am acting as you say I do. When I see myself as a person
without a will I feel desolate."
This tritely innocent statement gushed out and gradually rose
to a shout. He continued : "I want to become something. I want
a real existence/"
Shunsuke listened intently. He felt he was hearing the first
wail from one of his artistic productions. Yuichi went on, sadly :
"I'm tired of secrecy."

[ 141 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O RS

This was the first time Shunsuke's works had been given a
tongue. The terrible voice of this youth made Shunsuke feel as if
a groan of the awful labor expended in the construction of a bell
had become the diapason of a well-wrought masterpiece. At the
same time, Yuichi's childish fretfulness made him smile. It was
no longer the voice of his creation.
"I am not at all happy to be called beautiful. I would be much
happier to have everybody call me that nice, interesting fellow
Yuchan."
"But" -Shunsuke's tone had become somewhat placid-"it
looks as if it is the destiny of you fellows not to be able to attain
a real existence. In place of that, within the limitations of art,
your fellowship can become a terrifically heroic antagonist to
reality. The men of your street seem to be vested with the mis­
sion of representation when they are born. At least that's the
way I see it. The action called representation straddles reality
and pricks it to a halt; it is action that stops the root of reality's
breath. Through this process, representation always becomes the
heir of reality. This joker, reality, is moved by those whom it
moves and is controlled by those whom it controls. For instance,
those who are directly in charge of reality, who push reality and
control reality, are the masses, you know. When it comes to
representation, though, that is hard to push. Nothing on earth
can force it to act. The person in charge of it is the artist. Only
representation can give reality to reality; realism does not exist
in reality but in representation.
"Compared with representation, reality is tremendously ab­
stract. In the real world, mankind, men, women, lovers, the
home, and so on live higgledy-piggledy and that is all. The
world of representation, on the contrary, presents humanity,
manhood, womanhood, lovers that are worthy of being lovers,
homes that have been made homelike, and the like. Representa­
tion seizes the nucleus of reality, but it is not carried away by
reality. Representation reflects its image in the surface of the
water like a dragonfly; it skims that surface. Before one knows, it
has laid eggs on the water. Those larvae are brought up in the
water in preparation for the day they will fly about in the sky.

[ I 42 ]
 Family Ritual: Tea with Rice

They become conversant with the secrets of the water, but they
hold the world of the water in contempt.
"This, indeed, is the mission of your fellowship. Once you told
me of your annoyance over the principle of majority rule. Right
now, I don't believe in your annoyance. What is so original
about men and women being in love? In modern society institu­
tions based on the instinct of love are becoming increasingly
rare. Customs and models have permeated even the first im­
pulses. What models, do you think? Shallow, artistic models.
Many young men and women are stupidly convinced that only
the artistic love is the true love, and their own loves are only
clumsy copies.
"The other day I saw a romantic ballet performed by a dancer
who I am told is a man of that street. As the lover, expressing in
marvelous detail the emotions of a man in love, he was incom­
parable. The one he loved, however, was not the beautiful bal­
lerina before our eyes. It was the boy apprentice who played an
insignificant part and appeared only briefly on the stage. What
intoxicated the audience so in his performance was the complete
artificiality of it, for the reason that he did not desire the beauti­
ful ballerina who was playing his lover on the stage. But for the
young men and women among the unsuspecting audience, the
love he portrayed was capable of becoming what can be called a
model of this world's love."
This long-winded peroration by Shunsuke made Yuichi feel
infinitely disappointed. It had not alleviated his great human
problem. The matter he felt to be so important seemed on his
way homeward to have been disregarded as of small conse­
quence.
At any rate, Yasuko wanted a baby. His mother was eager for a
grandchild. Yasuko's family's attitude was quite what one would
expect. Even Shunsuke wanted i t l Although Yuichi felt that an
abortion was of utmost importance for Yasuko's happiness, he
knew that securing her consent would be extremely difficult. No
matter how terrible the morning sickness became, her demeanor
would become increasingly obdurate.
Yuichi felt dizzy watching his friends and enemies dance fren­
ziedly toward unhappiness. He went so far as to compare his
unhappiness with that of the prophet who has divined the fu­
ture, and he fell into despair. That evening he went to Rudon's ,

[ ' 43 ]
 FORBIDDEN C O L OR S

sat there alone, and drank heavily. Exaggerating his own loneli­
ness, he resorted to cruelty and went off to spend the night with
a boy completely devoid of charm. Play-acting at drunken rois­
tering, he poured whiskey down the boy's back. The boy tried to
make a joke of it, laughing agreeably in a forced way, peering
servilely at his tormentor. This depressed Yuichi. There was a
rather big hole in the boy's - sock. That caused an even deeper
depression in Yuichi.
Dead drunk, he went to sleep without touching the boy. In
the middle of the night he was shocked awake by the sound of
his own voice. In his dream he had killed Shunsuke. In the dark­
ness Yuichi peered in terror at his gleaming hand, wet with cold
perspiration.

( I44 J
 CHAPTER 12

G A Y P A R TY

IN PAIN AND ANG UISH, Yuichi's irresolution �rawled slowly

to Christmas without change. The time for the abortion had
passed. One day, again filled with despair, he kissed Mrs. Ka­
buragi for the first time. That kiss made her feel ten years
younger.
"Where are you going to spend Christmas?" she asked.
"I'm afraid I must play the dutiful husband and spend Christ­
mas Eve at least with my wife."
"Goodness, my husband hasn't spent Christmas Eve with me
once ! This year we're stepping out separately again , I suppose."
Having kissed her, Yuichi was amazed by her prudishness.
The usual woman on such an occasion would have set out quite
intolerably to play the part of the lover, but Mrs. Kaburagi held
her passion in check. It was an escape from the irregularity of
her daily existence. Yuichi was all the more terrified by the
thought that be was loved by a simple, sober side of her that no
man knew.
Yuichi had quite different plans for Christmas. He had been
invited to a "Gei Pa-ti" that was to b0 given in a house in the
hills of Oiso. "Gei" is the American equiv"alent for homosexual.
The house in Oiso was a mansion !hat the r:.coperty tax had
not brought to a forced sale, but it had at l..!ast deprived the
owner of funds for its maintenance. Jackie, who had influence
there for many years, managed to rent it. It was owned by the
family of the head of a paper company, which, after the master
died, rented a small house in Tokyo and lived modestly. When
they occasionally visited the mansion they had rented out, which

[ 1 4J ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L OR S

was three times as big as their house, with a garden ten times
the size of the one where they lived now, they were mystified by
the constant bustle of guests there. From trains departing from
Oiso Station or passing through, the lights could be seen burning
in the guest rooms at night. People corning from there to visit
them in Tokyo would say that the lights burning redly in the old
house made them think of old times. "I can't understand the high
life they live there at all," a widow remarked suspiciously. "Once
I dropped in and found them making amazing preparations for a
banquet." No one could guess what went on inside the house,
which looked out at the Oiso Sea across an expansive lawn.
Jackie's youth had been truly splendid-so splendid that only
Yuichi seemed worthy of nomination as Jackie the Second. The
times, however, were different. Jackie (despite this name, he
was Japanese, and quite respectable ) with his beauty as capital
made a grand tour of Europe more luxurious than the Mitsui or
Mitsubishi officials of that time could ever attain. He and his
English patron, however, separated after a few years.
When he returned to Japan, Jackie lived for a short time in the
Kansai area. His patron at that time was an Indian millionaire.
At the same time, however, this woman-hating youth was the
object of the attentions of three ladies of Ashiya society. The kind
of service Yuichi paid to Yasuko he paid to each of these three
guardians in turn.
The Indian was afflicted with a chest ailment. Jackie treated
this sentimental big man heartlessly. While his young lover was
whooping it up downstairs as usual, with hordes of his fellows,
the Indian lay in a rattan sleeping chair in the sun room on the
second floor, with his blanket pulled to his chin, reading the
Bible and weeping.
During the war jackie was a clerk in the Secretariat of the
French Embassy. He was thought to be a spy. The elusive qual­
ity of his private life was mistaken for official conduct.
Promptly after the war Jackie got his h ands on the Oiso man­
sion. He brought in the foreigner who was in love with him and
proceeded to display his talent for management. He was still
beautiful. Just as women have no beards, he displayed no sign of
years. Moreover, the gay society's phallic worship-and this was
their only religion-did not spare jackie honor and adulation for
the tireless way he lived.
That evening, Yuichi was at Rudon's. He felt rather tired. His
 Gay Party

cheeks, paler than usual, gave a strangely apprehensive air to his

serene, clean profile. "Yuchan has a beautifully cloudy eye
today," said Eichan. Like the eye of a first mate tired of gazing
at the sea, he thought.
Yuichi naturally kept his marriage secret. This concealment
was the source of exceedingly jealous rumors. Looking out the
window at the street with its bustle of the dying year, he thought
about his uneasiness of the past four days. As when he was first
married, Yuichi once more dreaded the night. For with her
pregnancy Yasuko demanded incessant, unfailing love ; punctili­
ous, nurselike devotion. And so Yuichi could not help thinking,
as he had before : I am an unpaid prostitute. I am cheap. I am a
devoted toy, he reviled himself. If Yasuko wants to buy a m an's
soul so cheaply, she'd better learn to take a little unhappiness.
Just the same, I'm like a self-seeking maid-I'm not even faith­
ful to myself, am I ?
I n truth, Yuichi's body lying beside his wife was much cheaper
than Yuichi's body beside a boy he loved, but this perversion of
values made what seemed to the world a perfectly matched
beautiful young couple into an ice-cold harlotry, a relationship
of unpaid prostitution. With this quiet, slow-working virus hid­
den from men's eyes incessantly eating away at Yuichi, who
could guarantee that, even outside his little "let's play house"
circle, his doll-like, m an-and-wife circle, he was not also being
devoured?
For instance, until this time he had been faithful to his ideals
in gay society. He never made sexual commitments except with
boys who were younger than he and who appealed to him. This
faithfulness was, of course, a reaction to his infidelity toward the
marriage bed. From the beginning Yuichi had come to this soci­
ety in faithfulness to himself. In general, however, his weakness
and the mysterious will of Shunsuke were forcing him to be
faithless to himself. Shunsuke said it was the fate of beauty as
well as of art.
Yuichi's looks had turned the heads of eight or nine of the ten
foreigners who saw him. Disliking foreigners, he had rejected
them all. One, for instance, had broken a two-story pane of glass
in Rudon's in a fit of anger. Another, in a fit of depression, had
for no discernible reason, slashed the wrists of the boy staying
with him. The crowd who specialized in living off foreigners
respected Yuichi highly for his attitude. They had a masochistic

[ ' 47 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

love and respect for a mode of living that without harming them
could lash out against their own subsistence. Why? Because no
day goes by that we do not dream of a safe rebellion against our
livelihood.
Nevertheless, Yuichi strove out of his inherent gentleness to
refuse without woundin6 the other parties. When he looked at
these pitiful beings who wanted him when he did not want
them, Yuichi could not help viewing them with the same eyes he
turned on his pathetic wife. The impulses of compassion and
sympathy condoned a mood of acceptance not unmixed with
disdain for these men, and in this mood of acceptance, oddly, an
easy, worry-free coquetry flowered. It was a completely relaxed,
aged coquetry like the kind seen in the gentle maternal instincts
of old women visiting orphanages.
A limousine threaded through the congestion of the street and
stopped in front of Rudon's. A second limousine followed it and
stopped. The Oasis Kirnichan did a single proud pirouette and
greeted the three foreigners with his proudest, most amorous
look. There were ten men in the group going to Jackie's party,
including the foreigners and Yuichi.
When the three foreigners saw Yuichi, a gleam of anticipation
and impatience carne into their eyes. Who was going to share a
bed with him tonight at Jackie's?
The ten men were loaded into two cars. Rudy handed a gift
for Jackie through the window. It was a bottle of champagne
decked with holly.

Oiso was less than two hours' drive away. The cars ran
bumper to bumper on the Keihin Number 2 National Highway
and the old Tokaido Road to Ofuna. The boys were having a
merry time. One calculating boy had an empty Boston bag in his
lap in which he planned to c arry back all the loot he could get.
Yuichi did not sit next to a foreigner. The blond young man next
to the driver stared covetously in the rear-view mirror, in which
he could watch Yuichi's face.
The sky was alight-a blue-porcelain night sky where count­
less stars twinkled, like snowflakes frozen before they could fall.
The car was warm, thanks to the heater. Yuichi heard from his
talkative seat mate, with whom he had once been intimate, a
 Gay Party

story about the golden-haired man next to the driver. After he

had been in Japan a time, he shouted in the climax of sexual
pleasure, "Tengokul Tengoku/"-Paradise-which he had heard
somewhere, and made his partner break up with laughter. This
not unlikely story shook Yuichi with laughter-and just then it
happened that his eye met the eye in the rear-view mirror. That
blue eye winked, and the thin lips came closer to the surface of
the glass and kissed it. Yuichi was amazed-the cloudy print of
his lips on the mirror surface was tinged with red.
It was nine o'clock when they arrived. There were already
three limousines in the circular drive. Human figures were mov­
ing busily in the windows from which came the sound of music.
The wind was very cold, and the boys, stepping out, bent their
newly shaven pale blue napes.
Jackie greeted his guests at the entrance. He sank his face in
the bouquet of winter roses that Yuichi handed him and shook
hands stylishly with the foreigners with his right hand, which
bore a cat's-eye ring. He was quite drunk, so he greeted every­
one, including the boy who sold pickles in the daytime in his
family's store, with a "Meri-Kurisumasu tsu yu." For a moment
the boys felt as if they were abroad. In fact, many boys like
them had been abroad, accompanied by their lovers. The stories
that appear under the newspaper headlines, "Public Spirit Far
from Home/Houseboy Studies Abroad," generally have this
meaning.
The salon that gave off the entranceway was about twenty
mats in size and was lighted only by a Christmas tree in the
center, adorned with tiny incandescent candles. A long-playing
record sounded from a loudspeaker hung somewhere in the tree.
About twenty guests were already dancing in the salon.
In truth, this evening the pure child was born from an im­
maculate mother's womb. The men dancing here were celebrat­
ing the nativity like "the Righteous Man," Joseph. In short, they
celebrated their freedom from responsibility for the infant born
this night.
Men dancing together-this uncommon joke. As they danced,
the rebellious smiles beaming from their faces said : "We aren't
doing this because we are forced to ; we are only playing a
simple joke." While they danced, they laughed-a spirit-destroy­
ing laugh. In the usual dance hall, the men and women blithely
dancing exhibit the freedom of the impulses they express. But

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 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

when these men danced, anns intertwined, there was a feeling

that they were forced by the impulse into a dark bondage. Why
is it that men must, in spite of themselves, assume a posture to
show they love each other? What is i t but that this kind of love,
confused by the impulse, may perhaps not be consummated if
the dark taste of destiny is not present?
The popular piece became a fast rumba. Their dancing be­
came frenzied, lewd. Under the pretext that "It is the music,
above all, that is driving us," one couple joined their lips and,
until they fell, whirled about endlessly. Eichan, who had come
earlier, winked at Yuichi from the anns of a fat little foreigner.
The boy was half-laughing and half-knitting his brows. While
they were dancing, the fat dancer kept biting the boy's earlobe.
His mustache, traced with eyebrow pencil, was smudging the
boy's face.
There Yuichi beheld the conclusion of the fate that had been
first recorded for him. He saw precisely, in concrete fonn , the
complete truth of that fate . Eichan's lips and teeth were as beau­
tiful as ever. His smudged face was indescribably endearing. But
from his beauty all abstractness had disappeared. His slim hips
twisted under a hairy hand. Yuichi averted his eyes impassively.
On the sofa and on the divan that ringed the fireplace, drunks
and lovers were stretched out, uttering languid noises and
giggles of delight. About seven or eight men were in close em­
brace, rubbing against various parts of each other's bodies. Two
were joined at the shoulders, giving their backs to the caresses of
another. Another man had his leg locked over that of the man
beside him ; at the same time his left hand was deep in the pit of
the stomach of the man at his left. Like the evening haze, the
sound of low, sweetly murmured caresses wafted. A dignified
gentleman on the rug beneath their feet, solid gold cufflinks
protruding from his sleeves, had removed the sock from a boy's
foot-the boy was meanwhile being squeezed by three men on
the divan-and was holding the foot to his lips. When the sole of
his foot was kissed, the boy suddenly emitted a giggle of delight,
and the impetus of his body being shoved backward affected
those behind him. The others , however, seemed hardly to move
at all. Like creatures native to the depths of the sea, they settled
sluggishly.
Jackie came to Yuichi's side and gave him a cocktail.
"It's a swinging party ; I can't say how happy I am about it,"

( I50 ]
 Gay Party

he said. Even in his choice of words, there was the trace of

youth. "Oh, Yuchan, tonight somebody's coming who really
wants to meet you. He's an old friend, so don't be too cruel to
him. He has the Prince Genji name of Pope." Saying this, he
looked toward the entrance, and his eyes lit up.
"Oh, here he is I"
An affected-looking individual appeared in the dark doorway.
One hand fumbling with the buttons on his overcoat showed
white in the gloom. In mechanical gait that said, "Screw one
loose ; then take a step," he approached Jackie and Yuichi. A
dancing couple passed close by; he made a wry face and averted
his glance.
"Alias Mr. Pope-Yuichi."
In response to Jackie's introduction, Pope held out a white
hand to Yuichi.
"Cheers I"
Yuichi looked hard at that face bathed in unpleasant light. It
was Count Kaburagi.

( I5I ]
 C HA P TE R 13

CO URTESY

POPE, the name by which Nobutaka Kaburagi had come to be

called by men ignorant of its origin, was a nom de guerre he had
taken from Alexander Pope, whose poetry he enjoyed. Kaburagi
was an old friend of Jackie's. They had met ten years ago or
more in the Oriental Hotel in Kobe, where they stayed together
two or three times.
Yuichi had had much practice in the intricacies of meeting
people unexpectedly at parties like this without being at all sur­
prised. This society had broken up the discipline of the society
outside; it had scrambled the alphabet of the outside and then
rearranged it strangely-like CXMQA, for instance-changing
the order and changing the grouping and demonstrating the
virtuosity of the magician.
Count Kaburagi's metamorphosis, however, had caught Yuichi
completely by surprise. For a moment he found it difficult to take
the hand that Pope held out to him. Kaburagi's amazement was
even greater. As a drunk stares fixedly at something, so he stared
at Yuichi, saying : "It's you ! It's you I"
Then he looked at Jackie again and said, "Me, of all people­
for the first time in all these years this fellow has succeeded in
conning me . In the first place, he's a very young married man. I
first met him at the speaker's table at his wedding reception. To
think that Yuichi is the famous Yuchan I"
''Yuchan has a wife !" said Jackie, evincing surprise in the
manner of a foreigner. "That's the first fve heard of it."
Thus one of Yuichi's secrets was quickly out. It wouldn't take
ten days, certainly, for the news to leak out to the fellowship.

[ 1 J2 ]
 Courtesy

Soon, he feared, all his secrets, in both his worlds, withheld from
e ach other till now, would be violated one by one.
In search for a means of escaping these fears, he now turned
to the task of regarding the fonner Count Kaburagi as "Pope."
That restless, craving look, he now understood, was caused by
the desperate urge continually to seek out � autiful fellows.
That disgusting something that hung about Kaburagi's features,
like a stain in a gannent that refuses to come out; that nameless,
unpleasant mixture of effeminacy and impudence; that absurd,
forced, squeezed voice; that ever so carefully planned natural­
ness : all were the seal of the fellowship and its compensatory
endeavors. All the fragmentary impressions remaining in
Yuichi's memory thus suddenly fonned themselves along a sin­
gle thread, a definite pattern. Of the two methods peculiar to
this society- analysis and synthesis-he had worked the latter
out completely. Just as a wanted man might alter his looks by
surgery, Nobutaka Kaburagi had learned to conceal under his
public face a portrait that he did not want seen. The nobility,
especially, excel at concealment. A penchant for hiding vice
comes before a penchant for committing vicious acts. It may
therefore be said that Nobutaka Kaburagi bad discovered the
joy of being a nobleman.
He nudged Yuichi's back. Jackie led them to a sofa.
Five boys in white made their way through the crowd, bear­
ing glasses of wine and plates of canaiJes. All five were Jackie's
lovers. It was uncanny. Each was in some way like Jackie. They
all looked like brothers. One had Jackie's eyes; another one had
his nose. One had his lips; another looked like Jackie from be­
hind. The last bad inherited his forehead. Put together, they
fonned a matchless likeness of Jackie in his younger days.
His portrait hung above the mantel, adorned by the gift flow­
ers and holly leaves and a pair of candles. It was bordered by a
splendid go�d frame and, due to dingy pigments, exhibited a
highly sensual olive-colored nude figure. It was the spring of
Jackie's nineteenth year. Using him as a model, an Englishman
who worshipped Jackie had painted this. It was a young
B acchus holding high a glass of champagne and smiling mis­
chievously. On his brow he bore ivy; on his bare neck a tie was
loosely draped. His left ann lithely supported the golden weight
of the drunken boat of his body on the table on which he was
half-sitting. His hand, like an oar, pressed back the waves made

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 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

by the light pressure of his hips against the white tablecloth.

Just then the record changed to a samba. The dancers with­
drew to the sides; a light went on behind the wine-colored
brocade curtain over the doorway to the stairs. The curtain
shook energetically. Suddenly a h alf-naked boy appeared,
dressed as a Spanish dancer. He was a small, narrow-hipped,
charming boy of eighteen or so, wearing a scarlet turban ; a gold­
embroidered scarlet brassiere covered his breast.
He danced. His limpid sexuality differed from the dark, inde­
cisive hesitancy of a woman. It held a litheness rich with precise
lines and glints that captured the hearts of the audience. Danc­
ing, the boy threw back his head. When he brought it fonvard
again he gave a clear look of desire in Yuichi's direction. Yuichi
responded by closing one eye. A silent pact had been sealed.
Kaburagi did not miss the wink. Since he had earlier come to
recognize Yuichi for \vhat he was, his heart was :filled with
Yuichi. Pope was concerned about public opinion, so he never
showed his face in the places in the Ginza district. Recently he
had heard the name Yuchan everywhere, but imagined it meant
no more than that an extraordinary person had taken his place
among the garden-variety of beautiful boys. Half out of curiosity
he had asked Jackie to introduce him. It turned out to be Yuichi.
Nobutaka Kaburagi was a master of seduction. Until today, in
his forty-third year, he had been intimate with about a thousand
boys. What was it that attracted him? It cannot be said that i t
was beauty that excited him and drove him t o debauchery.
Rather, it was fear-trembling fear-that held him captive. In
the pleasures of that street, everywhere a kind of sweet corrup­
tion followed one. As Saikaku said so eloquently : "Making love
to boys is like the sleep of a wolf under a flower whose petals
are falling." That is the charm of it. Nobutaka searched
constantly for new thrills. Only new things excited him. He had
no sense that would h ave permitted him to compare beauties
precisely, to rank them. He never tried to compare the charms of
the individual before him now with the charms of the individual
he had just loved. Like a ray of light, passion illuminated one
time, one space. Now Nobutaka felt like a suicide lured to the
precipice. A fresh rent in the continuous exterior of our fixed
lives was beckoning him, who had so little resistance.
Watch out this time, his heart soliloquized. Until just now I
had seen Yuichi as nothing more than a young husband in-

[ ' 54 ]
 Courtesy

fatuated with my wife, a runaway colt galloping in the dawn

down the nonnal paths of life. I looked at his beauty but kept
calm. I never thought I could recklessly drag that runaway down
my own little lane. When I then suddenly perceived Yuichi in
this little lane, my heart was troubled. He's dangerous as light­
ning ! I remember that long ago when I saw a young fellow just
entering this street the same lightning lit my heart up brightly. I
fell head over heels in love. I know the signs when it is going to
happen. Since then twenty years have gone by, and the lightning
has not struck again with the same force until today. Compared
with this the lightning I felt for the other thousand was a child's
sparkler. With the first throb, the first thrill, the issue was de­
cided. Somehow I must get to sleep with this youth right
away.
Even though he was in love, he excelled in techniques of
observation and his glance had the power of making things
transparent. In his words the power of mental telepathy lay
concealed. From the moment he saw Yuichi, Nobutaka perceived
the intellectual poison corroding this beautiful young person. Ah,
already this youth has been rendered weak by his own beauty.
His weakness is his beauty. He has recognized the power of his
beauty, and the prints of the leaves are still on his back. That's
what 111 aim at.
Nobutaka stood up and approached the terrace where Jackie
was sobering up. As he did so, the blond foreigner who had
come over with Yuichi asked Yuichi to dance. Another foreigner
made the same request at almost the same moment.
Nobutaka motioned to Jackie, who then carne in. The cold air
struck Nobutaka's neck.
Jackie took his old friend to the bar on the mezzanine that
looked out to the sea. In a comer, a bar had been set up where
there were no windows, and there a faithful waiter whom Jackie
had discovered in the Ginza was working with rolled-up sleeves
as bartender. On the distant point at the left the flashing light
was visible. The branches of the bare trees in the garden ern­
braced the seascape and the starry sky. Caught between the cold
air and the heat, the windows had been wiped and clouded over
again. Playfully, the two men ordered a woman's cocktail, an
angel's tip, and drank.
"Well? Terrific, eh ?"
"A pretty boy. I've never seen anything quite like him."

[ I )5 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O RS

"The foreigners are all amazed by him. And not one of them
has had him. He seems to dislike foreigners particularly. He's
had about ten or twenty fellows, but they're all younger than
he."
"The tougher they are, the more exciting they are. The boys
nowadays are pushovers."
"Well, go ahead and see. At any rate, the veterans have done
all they can, but now they're all played out. Now's the time for
Pope to show his hand."
"What I want to know is . . ." said the former count, transfer­
ring his cocktail to the palm of his left hand and staring fixedly
at it. Whenever he looked at something, he put on an air of
being observed. In short, he continually played the dual role of
actor and audience. "How shall I say it? I wonder if the kid has
ever given himself to someone he doesn't desire. Whether, how
shall I say it, he has given himself completely to his own beauty.
If there is ever so little of love and desire for one's lover in the
affair, then it can by no means be called giving oneself purely to
one's own beauty. From what you say he doesn't seem to have
had such an experience, despite his good looks."
•'That's what I hear; although if he's married he must be sleep­
ing with his wife mostly out of a sense of duty."
Nobutaka dropped his eyes. He groped for the implications
hidden in his old friend's words. When Kaburagi thought about
something, he always acted as if people were staring hard at
him , studying the tailoring of his ideas. The tipsy Jackie urged
him to try what he had in mind. If by ten o'clock the next
morning Nobutaka was successful, Jackie wagered, he would
win the magnificent ring on his finger. Against it Pope wagered
the early Muromachi makie-lacquered writing box in the Ka­
buragi family storehouse. The beauty of that high-relief makie
work had set Jackie pining incurably to possess it when he had
first seen it in the Kaburagi home.
From the mezzanine they descended again to the ballroom.
Before anyone knew it, Yuichi had started dancing with the one
who had performed e arlier. The boy had already changed to a
suit. At his throat a lovely bow tie was knotted. Nobutaka knew
his age. The homosexual's hell and the woman's hell are the
same-namely, old age. Nobutaka knew for certain that he
c ould never hope for the divine miracle that the beautiful youth
would fall in love with him. The very impossibility of it brought

[ I J6 ]
 Courtesy

his passion close to that of the idealist who knows from the
beginning his ideals will never be realized. He who loves ideals
hopes to be loved by ideals in tum.
In the middle of the number, Yuichi and the boy abruptly
stopped dancing. The two disappeared from sight behind the
wine-colored curtain. With a sigh, Pope said, "Well, they've gone
to the second floor."
On the floor above, there were three or four little rooms that
could be used at any time, all furnished casually with sleeping
alcoves and couches.
"You'll have to allow him one or two lovers, Pope. When
you're young as he is, it doesn't make any difference." Jackie said
it in a comforting tone. He was looking over the shelves in the
comer, deciding where to put the writing box he would get from
Nobutaka.
Nobutaka was waiting. Even after Yuichi reappeared in an
hour, his opportunity didn't come. Night was deepening. People
were losing interest in dancing. Like alternately dying and reviv­
ing embers, however, several couples were continually exchang­
ing partners and dancing on. Against the wall in a little chair,
one of Jackie's favorites, his face innocent in slumber, was tak­
ing a nap. One of the foreigners winked at Jackie. Ever the gen­
erous host, he smiled and nodded. The foreigner grasped the
sleeping boy very lightly. He carried him to a sofa on the other
side of the curtain leading to the mezzanine. The boy's lips were
slightly open as he slept. His eyes, hidden by long lashes, trem­
bled as, out of curiosity, he stealthily looked at the breast of the
husky person carrying him. He saw the golden hair of the man's
chest protruding from a gap in his shirt and felt as if he were
being embraced by a great hornet.
Nobutaka awaited his chance. The men there were mainly old
acquaintances, and they had all sorts of things to talk about.
Nobutaka, however, wanted Yuichi. All kinds of sweet and lewd
imaginings tortured him. He was confident, moreover, that no
expression of his would betray so much as a particle of his emo­
tions.
Yuichi's eyes happened to fall on a new arrival. It was a boy
who had arrived at two in the morning with four or five foreign­
ers from Yokohama. From the collar of his two-tone coat hung a
scarlet-and-black-striped muffier. When he laughed, his teeth
shone in strong, gleaming rows. His hair was cut square. It went

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 F O R B I D D EN C O L O RS

well with his deep-cut full face. On his fingers, in which he

clumsily held a cigarette, he wore a garish, initialed gold ring. In
this wild boy there seemed to be something worthy of Yuichi's
languid sexuality. If Yuichi could be called a superb sculpture,
this boy would be a botched piece of work by comparison. Be­
sides, to the extent that one would consider him an imitation, to
that same extent one would have to admit he was much like
Yuichi. Thanks to his extraordinary pride, Narcissus sometimes
loves a bad mirror. A bad mirror s aves one from jealousy, if
nothing else.
The newcomers exchanged courtesies with those who had ar­
rived before them. Yuichi and the boy sat together. Their young
eyes sought each other. An understanding had already been
formed.
When the two men attempted to rise from their places, hand
in hand, however, one of the foreigners asked Yuichi to dance.
Yuichi did not refuse. Nobutaka Kaburagi did not let the oppor­
tunity go by; he came up to the boy and asked him to dance.
While they danced, he said, "Have you forgotten me, Ryochan?"
"Could I forget you, Pope? "
"Have I ever asked you t o d o anything for nothing?"
''I'm indebted to you for your generosity. Everyone loves you
for it."
"How about tonight? Can you help me ?"
"No reason why not, for you."
"Right now."
"Right now?" the boy's eyes clouded. "But, there's-"
'Til give you twice as much as the last time."
"Yes, but how about later? There's plenty of time before morn-
ing."
"Later's no good; right now !"
"First come, first served."
"But the first one doesn't have a cent to his name, does he?"
"For someone I love, I don't mind sacrificing my fortune."
"Your whole fortune ! You talk as if you were rich. All right, I'll
lay out three times the money plus a thousand yen-ten thou­
sand yen. I'll pay you afterward."
"Ten thousand yen?" The boy's eyes blinked. "Was I that good
last time? "
"Right."
The boy raised his voice as he bluffed : "You're drunk, aren't

[ 1J8 ]
 Courtesy

you, Pope ? I find what you say too good to believe."

"You don't value yourself highly enough , unfortunately. Have
a little more pride. Here's four thousand down. The other six I'll
give you later."
The boy calculated. Four thousand yen . . . if worst comes to
worst, and the other six thousand yen goes sour, it's still not a
bad deal, he told himself. How will I get around putting Yuichi
off?
Yuichi was by the wall, smoking a cigarette while he waited
for the boy to finish the dance. With the fingers of one hand, he
drummed delicately on the wall. Nobutaka watched him out of
the comer of his eye; he was struck by the fresh beauty of the
body of this young man waiting for the signal to spring.
The dance had ended. Ryosuke came over toward Yuichi
planning to make some excuse. Yuichi, who did not sense that,
threw away his cigarette, turned his back to the other and went
ahead. Ryosuke followed him ; Nobutaka followed Ryosuke.
While they climbed the stairs, Yuichi placed his hand lightly on
the boy's shoulder. The boy's position was gradually becoming
more difficult. As Yuichi opened the door of one of the rooms on
the second floor, Nobutaka suddenly grasped the boy by the
arm . Yuichi turned about in surprise. Nobutaka and the boy
were silent; Yuichi's eyes colored with youthful anger.
"What are you doing?"
''I'm first, am I not?"
"Rightfully, this boy is mine first." Yuichi inclined his head
and laughed a forced laugh . "Quit the kidding."
"If you think it's a joke, ask the boy and see whose claim he
wants to honor first."
Yuichi placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. The shoulder
trembled. Attempting to compensate for the ugliness of the mo­
ment, the boy glared at Yuichi with eyes that were hooded with
hostility, though he spoke gently : "It's all right, isn't it? Later?"
Yuichi was about to strike the boy. Nobutaka intervened.
"Now, now; let's not have any rough stuff. We have lots of
time to talk it over."
Nobutaka put his arm around Yuichi's shoulders and led him
into the room. When Ryochan attempted to enter behind them,
Nobutaka slammed the door in his face. His remonstrations
could be heard through the door. Nobutaka quickly latched it.
He placed Yuichi on the divan by the window and lit a cigarette

( I )9 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

for both of them. Meanwhile, outside, the boy kept banging on

the door. He gave it one more kick and then resignedly left.
The atmosphere of the room suited the occasion. On the wall
there hung a picture of Endyrnion asleep in meadow grass and
flowers and bathed in moonbeams. The electric space heater was
turned on, and on the table was a bottle of cognac, a water
pitcher, and a record player. On party nights the foreigner who
occupied this room usually made it available to visitors.
Nobutaka turned on the record player, designed to play ten
records in succession, then with deliberation poured two glasses
of cognac. Yuichi suddenly got up, meaning to leave the room.
Pope headed him off, fixing the youth with a deep, gentle stare.
There was unusual power in his look. Yuichi, bound by a mys­
terious curiosity, sat down again.
"Relax. I don't give a hoot about that child. I gave him some
money with .the understanding he would back out on you. If I
h adn't done that, I wouldn't have heen able to talk to you at
leisure. Since there's money involved, he'll wait for you."
It must be said in all honesty that Yuichi's desire had swiftly
abated since the time when he had wanted to strike the boy. He
was far, however, from admitting this to Nobutaka. He sat si­
lently, like a captured spy.
"I said I wanted to talk," Pope went on. "Not a particularly
formal conversation-! just thought I'd like to have one heart-to­
heart talk with you. You'll listen, won't you? I stillremember the
day I first saw you at your wedding."
It would be tiresome to go into all of the long monologue that
Nobutaka Kaburagi indulged in presently. It continued to the
tune of ten dance records, both sides. Nobutaka knew well the
telling effect of his own words. Before the caress of the hand
comes the caress of words. He transformed himself into a mirror
that reflected Yuichi. Behind that mirror he managed to conceal
Nobutaka himself, his age, his desire, his complexity, and his
ingenuity.
While Nobutaka's monologue droned on-without Yuichi's
consent in the first place-Yuichi heard from time to time, in
soothing tones : "Are you tired of this ?" or, "If you're bored, tell
me, and I'll stop," or, "Does this conversation annoy you?" all
inserted like interludes. The first time the question carne like a
timorous entreaty; the second time it was hopelessly overbearing;
the third time it was full of confidence, as if sure that Yuichi

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 Courtesy

would smile and shake his head when the question came.
Yuichi wasn't bored. Far from it. Why? Because Nobutaka's
monologue was about Yuichi and nothi..."lg else : "Your eyebrows
are so cold and clear. Your eyebrows are-how shall I put it­
they exhibit pure youthful will. " When he ran out of compari­
sons, he stared silently for a time at Yuichi's brows. It was a
hypnotic technique. "Not only that, there is an exquisite har­
mony between those brows and these deep, sad eyes. The eyes
show your fate. The eyebrows show your will. What lies be­
tween those two is struggle. It is the fight that must be fought by
every youth. Your brows and your eyes are the eyes and brows
of the most beautiful young officer on the battlefield. His name is
youth.
"The only hat to match these eyebrows and those eyes is the
Grecian helmet. How many times I have seen your beauty in
dream s ! How many times I have wished to speak to you ! Never­
theless, when I meet you, the words stick in my throat like a
boy's. I am convinced that of all the young men I have seen in
the past thirty years you are the most beautiful. There are none
to be compared with you. How can you take it into your head to
love someone like Ryochan? Take a good look in a mirror. The
beauty you discover in other men comes entirely from your own
ignorance and self-delusion. The beauty you think you have
found in other men is already possessed in its entirety by you;
there is no more beauty anywhere to discover. When you "love'
another man, you are only too ignorant about yourself-you who
were born on the pinnacle of perfection."
Nobutaka's face came slowly closer and closer to Yuichi. His
high-flown words charmed the ears like slander. In fact, no ordi­
nary flattery could compare with them.
"You don't need a name," he continued. "Indeed, beauty with
a name doesn't count at all. Illusions of beauty that must have a
name like Yuichi or Taro or Jiro won't fool me any more. You
don't need a name to carry out your human function. You are a
type. You are on the stage. Your stage name is 'Young Man.'
There are no actors anywhere who can bear this title. All of
them depend on a personality, a character, or a name. All they
can portray to the best of their ability is Ichiro Young Man, John
Young Man, Johannes Young Man. You, however, in your being
are the animated universal name, 'Young Man.' You are the
representative of the visible 'Young Man' that has appeared in

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the myths, the histories, the societies and the Zeitgeist of all the
countries of the world. You personify all. If you did not exist, the
youth of all the young men would suffer nothing less than a
burial without ever being seen. In your brows the brows of
millions of young men are prefigured. Your lips comprise the
burgeoning design of millions of young lips. Your chest, your
arms . . ." Nobutaka rubbed the youth's arms, encased in the
sleeves of his winter suit. "Your thighs, your palms . . . " He
pressed his shoulder harder against Yuichi's shoulder. He fixed
the profile of the youth firmly in his gaze. Then he reached out
one hand and turned off the lamp on the table.
"Sit still. Please, I beg you, don't move. What beauty ! The
night is breaking. The sky is growing white. Surely you feel that
faint , random indication of dawn there on your cheek. This
cheek, though, is still in night. Your consummate profile floats on
the bcundary between night and dawn. Sit still, I beg you."
Nobutaka saw the youth's profile in miraculous relief in the
pure hour that bounded day and night. This momentary carving
had become an eternal thing. That profile brought external form
into time, and by fixing one consummate beauty in time became
itself an imperishable thing.
The window curtains had been open. The glass panes let in
the whitening seascape. This little room offered an unobstructed
view of the sea. The beacon blinked drowsily. Above the sea,
muddy-white rays supported deep banks of clouds in the
dawning-dark sky. The wintry stands of trees in rows in the
garden, like flotsam washed up by the morning tide, vaguely
mingled their branches.
Yuichi was cvercome by a deep lassitude, a sudden sensation
of sleepiness and intoxication. The portrait painted by Nobu­
taka's words stole out of the mirror and gradually bore down
upon Yuichi. Yuichi's hair, pressing against the back of the sofa,
seemed to become heavier and heavier. Desire mingled with
desire ; desire redoubled desire. This dreamlike sensation is not
easy to explain . Spirit dozed above spirit. Without any help from
desire, Yuichi's spirit was coupled with the spirit of another
Yuichi which was already mingling with it. Yuichi's forehead
touched Yuichi's forehead; beautiful eyebrows touched beautiful
eyebrows. This dreamy youth's half-open lips were stopped by
the beautiful lips of the self that he had dreamed up.
The first flicker of dawn came through the clouds. Nobutaka

[ 1 62 ]
 Courtesy

released Yuichi's cheeks, which he had been holding in both

hands. His coat now lay on the chair at the side. His empty
hands quickly released his suspenders from his shoulders. Again
he took Yuichi's face in his hands. His smug lips again pressed
Yuichi's lips.
The next morning at ten o'clock, Jackie sadly handed his trea­
sured cat's·eye ring to Nobutaka.

[ 1 63 ]
 CHAPTER 14

ALONE AND
INDEPENDENT

THE YEAR changed. Yuichi turned twenty-three, according to

the calendar. Yasuko turned twenty.
The new year was celebrated by the Minami household in the
family circle. It was essentially a season for festivity. First, there
was Yasuko's pregnancy. Second, Yuichi's mother, unexpectedly
in good health, h ad lived to greet the new year. There was,
however, something darkly foreboding about the occasion. The
seed, clearly, had been planted by Yuichi.
His frequent overnight absences and, worse, his increasing
dereliction of connubial duty, Yasuko at times could, on reflec­
tion , ascribe to her own possessiveness, but just the same they
tortured her. From what was said in the homes of her friends or
her relatives, many a wife returned to her family when her hus­
band stayed out only one night. Yuichi, furthermore, seemed to
h ave lost somewhere the gentleness of spirit that was his nature,
and though he stayed away overnight repeatedly without notice,
he paid no heed to his mother's advice or the appeals of Yasuko.
He was becoming more and more silent; his white teeth were
seldom shown.
It would not do, however, to imagine that Yuichi's pride was a
Byronic isolation. It was not an act of contemplation; his pride
was a veritable necessity, springing from his way of life. He was
no different from the incompetent captain who silently affects a
scowl as he watches the destruction of the ship in which he is
sailing. At the same time, the speed of this shipwreck was too
 Alone and Independent

orderly; the culprit, Yuichi, was not entirely to blame-it was a

case that must be considered as nothing more than the simple
action of self-disintegration.
After the holidays , Yuichi suddenly announced that he was
becoming private secretary to the chairman of the board of a
nameless company. Neither his mother nor Yasuko took him
seriously until he mentioned that the chairman and his wife were
corning to visit. This threw his mother into a panic. Yuichi had
mischievously kept silent the name of the chairman, so when his
mother saw none other than the Kaburagis standing in the
doorway that day, she was doubly surprised.
That morning a light snow had fallen , and the afternoon was
cloudy and extremely cold. The former count sat with his legs
crossed in front of the living-room gas heater, hands held up
before it, as if he were about to engage it in conversation. His
wife was ebullient. The couple had never gotten along so well.
When a funny story was told they both looked at each other and
laughed.
Yasuko heard the lady's somewhat shrill laughter when she
was in the hall on her way to greet the guests in the living room.
Her intuitions had told her long ago that this woman was among
those in love with Yuichi, but unnatural and uncanny insights
engendered by her pregnancy, if nothing else, told her that the
person driving Yuichi to exhaustion was neither Mrs. Kaburagi
nor Kyoko. It was without doubt someone she had not yet seen.
Whenever she tried to imagine the woman Yuichi was hiding,
Yasuko felt, aside from jealousy, a mysterious fear. So when Mrs .
Kaburagi's high-pitched laughter struck her ears, she felt not the
least jealousy; in fact , her composure was hardly disturbed.
Worn out with anxiety, Yasuko had reached a point where she
was inured to the habitude of pain and became like a shrewd
small animal, its ears up and alert. Although she was aware that
Yuichi's future depended on the good offices of her parents,
Yasuko had not said a word to them about her difficulties.
Yuichi's mother was filled with admiration at this demonstration
of a forbearance beyond her years. The admirable courage of
this so-young wife gave her the status of the old-fashioned model
of womanly virtue, yet it must be said that Yasuko at some time
had come to love the melancholy that Yuichi kept concealed
behind his far;ade of pride.
Surely there are many who would doubt that such magna·

[ 1 6) ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

nimity could be acquired by a young wife of twenty or so. As

time went by, however, she had come to realize her husband's
unhappiness and at the same time was struck with the notion
that she would be committing a crime against him if she allowed
herself to admit her inability to cure it. In the conclusion that
her husband's dissipation gave him no pleasure, in the conclu­
sion that it was nothing but a manifestation of his indefinable
suffering-in these maternal conclusions there was a misappre­
hension born of a pretense at adult sentimentality. It was close
to moral torture, this childish fancy, this refusal, on grounds of
unsuitability, to attach the word "pleasure" to Yuichi's suffering.
She felt, however, that if she were a man philandering in the
manner of the run of the world's youths, then that man she
would be would enjoy informing his wife about it.
Something incomprehensible is eating at him, she thought.
Surely he's not plotting a revolution or anything. If he loved
someone else and was untrue to me, that deep despair would not
be playing about his features all the time. Yuchan does not love
anything at all; I know this from wifely instinct."
Yasuko was partly right. She was not able to say that Yuichi
loved boys.
The family chatted busily in the living room; the convenient
cordiality of the Kaburagis had an unexpected effect on Yuichi
and his wife. They laughed and talked quite like a couple who
had nothing to hide from each other.
By mistake Yuichi drank Yasuko's cup of tea. Everyone was
lost in a dream of conversation, and the blunder seemed not
worth noticing. In fact, Yuichi had drunk it without immediately
realizing it himself. Only Yasuko saw it and nudged his leg.
Silently she pointed to his teacup on the table and smiled. In
reply, he scratched his head boyishly.
This pantomime did not escape the alert eyes of Mrs.
Kaburagi. Her cheerfulness on this day centered about the
happy anticipation that Yuichi was to become her husband's
private secretary; it had its source further back in the tender
appreciation she felt toward her husband for having some days
before showed an interest in bringing this auspicious plan into
reality. When Yuichi became the private secretary, how fre­
quently she would be able to see his face ! Her husband certainly
had some calculation in mind when he entered into her plan, but
she managed not to think about that.

[ 1 66 ]
 Alone and Independent

When Mrs. Kaburagi saw this smiling intimacy between

Yasuko and Yuichi, even though it was insignificant and barely
discernible, the hopelessness of her own love flashed upon her.
The two were young and beautiful ; even the problem of Kyoko
seemed to her Yuichi's one little escapade when she looked at
this loving young couple. And her own position, gifted with
fewer alluring qualities than Kyoko possessed, she had not a bit
of courage to contemplate.
Her appearance here in close though forced company with her
ht1sband had for Mrs. Kaburagi another, quite different, design .
She thought it would make Yuichi jealous. This notion, of course ,
had its fanciful elements, but she wished to get back at him for
the pain he had caused her by his appearance with Kyoko, while
at the same time she feared out of love for him that if she
appeared somewhere before him with a young man in tow she
would somehow wound Yuichi's pride.
She noticed a loose thread on her husband's shoulder and
removed it. Nobutaka stared and said : "What are you doing?"
When he realized what she was doing, he was shocked. His wife
was not a woman who did such things.
In his company, the Utsubo Far East Marine Products,
Nobutaka had used an old-time steward as his private secretary.
This useful old man had called him "My lord," never "Mr.
Chairman." Two months ago he had died of a cerebral hemor­
rhage. A new private secretary was needed. When Nobutaka's
wife suggested Yuichi for the job, he replied vaguely, "Fin e ; it's
only a light part-time job." He judged from her look of indiffer­
ence that she was concerned indeed.
Unexpectedly, however, this overture served neatly to disguise
Nobutaka's own proposal a month later. When, soon after New
Year's, he himself got the idea of making Yuichi his private
secretary, he gave his wife credit for the scheme and, affecting
her own practical way of talking, added his own praises of
Yuichi's business acumen.
"That young man is just the sort that job needs," he said. "The
other day I met Mr. Kuwahara at the Otomo Bank; he's a gradu­
ate of Yuichi's college. Far East Marine Products managed to get
an illegal loan through Mr. Kuwahara, but anyway, he had a lot
to say in praise of Yuichi. It's q uite a thing for a man his age to
be involved as he is with difficult property management."
"Then let's hire him as private secretary," suggested his wife.
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

"In case he hesitates, let's go to visit his mother, whom we

haven't seen in a long time, and go to work on it together."
Nobutaka had forgotten his long-standing habit of fluttering
lightly as a butterfly around matters of the heart. He had not
been able to live without Yuichi since the night at Jackie's party.
Since then Yuichi had complied with his demands on two occa­
sions, but in general he gave no sign that he loved Nobutaka.
Nobutaka, though, thought more and more about him. Yuichi
did not like to sleep away from horne, and so the two had
secretly gone to a hotel in the suburbs. The elaborate precautions
astonished Yuichi. In order to meet him, Nobutaka would make
a reservation for one or two days for himself. Yuichi would
happen to call "on business," and would leave late at night.
Nobutaka would needlessly stay on afterward.
After Yuichi left, however, this middle-aged nobleman would
be struck by mindless passion. He would pace the narrow room
dressed only in his robe. Finally he would fall down on the rug
and roll about. In a small voice he would call out Yuichi's name
hundreds of times. He would drink the wine Yuichi had left; he
would light the cigarette butts Yuichi had left behind. He would
beg Yuichi to leave his cakes in the plate half-eaten, with his
tooth marks plain to see in the remnants.
Yuichi's mother was ready to believe that Nobutaka Kabu­
ragi's suggestion that her son be permitted to study the world
was the very remedy needed to cure the boy's dissolute ways. He
was, after all, a student. It was not well to forget about the
career he was to assume after he graduated.
"There is the matter of Father Segawa's department store,"
she said, addressing Yuichi in tones designed for Nobutaka to
hear. "Your father-in-law wishes to help you get an education.
Before we can take this offer seriously we must confer with
him ."
He looked into his mother's eyes, which had weakened with
the years. This old person is making sure of the future I This old
lady who might, for all we know, drop dead tomorrow ! The one
who, on the other hand, doesn't find a thing sure about tomor­
row is youth, thought Yuichi. In general, old people believe in
the future through force of habit, but young people don't have
years of habit behind them. That's the only difference between
them.
Yuichi lifted his beautiful brows. He set forth strong yet child-

[ 1 68 ]
 Alone and Independent

ish arguments : "It's all right. After all, they didn't adopt me."
Yasuko looked at Yuichi's profile as he spoke these words. She
wondered if he was being cruel to her because of his wounded
pride. It was time for her to speak on his behalf.
"I can tell my father anything. You do exactly as you
please."
Yuichi then set forth what he and Nobutaka had agreed on
e arlier, how he might help out without interfering with his stud­
ies. His mother earnestly pleaded with Nobutaka in the matter
of Yuichi's development. These pleas were far too earnest, and
would certainly have sounded strange to a bystander. Nobutaka,
it seemed, was going to work a miraculous education upon this
precious prodigal son.
The talk had just about ended. Nobutaka Kaburagi invited
everyone out to dinner. The mother declined at first, but gave in
when she was told she would be taken and brought back by car.
She got up to get ready. It was evening, and snow was falling
again , so she put on a flannel stomach band and slipped a pocket
heater inside it to protect her kidneys.
The five of them went out in Nobutaka's hired car to a restau­
rant in the Ginza. Mter dinner Nobutaka suggested they go to a
dance h all. Even Yuichi's mother was willing to go ; she wanted
to see the worst. She even wanted to see a strip show, but this
evening there was none.
She modestly admired the dancers' revealing costumes : "How
pretty ! Really becoming. That blue diagonal line is absolutely
channing."
Yuichi felt a freedom in his whole body that he could not
e asily explain. He suddenly realized he had forgotten Shunsuke's
existence. He made up his mind that he would not tell Shunsuke
about this new private-secretary arrangement nor about his rela­
tionship with Nobutaka. This small resolution cheered him. It
made him ask Mrs. Kaburagi to dance. When she complied he
asked : "What makes you so happy?" Then he added, looking
deep in the woman's eyes : "Don't you even know?"
In that moment Mrs. Kaburagi's happiness barely left her free
to breathe.
 CHAPTER lj

B L UE S U N D A Y

ON A S UNDAY long before spring, a t eleven in the morning,

Yuichi and Nobutaka Kaburagi, who had spent the night to­
gether, parted at the ticket gate of the Kanda Station.
The night before they had had a little quarrel. Nobutaka had
reserved a hotel room without consulting Yuichi, and Yuichi had
angrily made him cancel it. Nobutaka strove to mollify him, and
in the end they went to a Kanda neighborhood hotel and took
whatever room was available. They hesitated at staying at any of
the usual assignation houses.
This was a miserable night. Since the regular rooms were
taken, they were given a tasteless ten-mat room that was some­
times used for parties. There was no heat, and it was cold as a
temple sanctuary. It was a run-down, ice-cold room in the mid­
dle of a concrete building. The two sat by a hibachi containing
embers dim as fireflies and an ashtray filled with stale butts,
their overcoats hanging from their shoulders as if they intended
to stay here without seeing each other's misery. They idly
watched the fat legs of the unceremonious maid who carne in
kicking the dust and made up the bed.
"My, you awful men. Don't look at me, like thatl" the maid
said. Her hair was reddish and sparse.
The hotel was called the Tourist Hoteru. If a guest opened the
window, he had a view of the toilet and the dressing room in
back of the dance hall next door. The windows appeared red
and blue by the neon light. The night wind carne sneaking
through the cracks about the window of their room, congealed
the air and fluttered the tom wallpaper. The sodden voices of

[ 170 ]
 Blue Sunt:Uzy

two drunken women and a man in the next room sounded as if

they were coming out of a drainpipe; they droned on till three
in the morning. Dawn came early through their window, which
had no stonn shutter. There wasn't even a waste basket. The
only place to discard paper was on top of the six-foot-high room
partition separating the main room from its foyer. It was piled
high with rubbish.
It was a cloudy morning, promising snow. Since ten o'clock a
guitar could be heard strumming. Driven by the cold, Yuichi
walked rapidly as he left the hotel. Nobutaka followed him,
breathing hard.
"Mr. Chairrnan"-when the youth addressed him thus it was
more by way of contempt than respect-'Trn going horne; if I
don't there'll be trouble."
"But didn't you say we were going to be together all day
today?"
Yuichi looked abstractedly out of his beautiful eyes and said,
coldly : "If you don't stop always wanting your own way, we're
not going to stay together very long."
When Pope spent the night with Yuichi, he could not get
enough of looking at the beloved sleeping fonn. He hardly slept
a wink. His color was not good that morning. Also, his cheeks
were rather swollen. The blue-black face nodded reluctantly.
When Nobutaka's taxi drove off, Yuichi was left alone in the
grimy throng. To go horne all he had to do was go through the
ticket gate. Instead he tore up the ticket he had purchased,
turned about, and strode along a row of restaurants that stood
adjacent to e ach other behind the station. The drinking places
were silent, bearing "Closed Today" signs. At an inconspicuous
door among them, Yuichi rapped. A voice sounded from in­
side.
"It's me," Yuichi said.
"Ah, Yuchan," the voice said; the frosted-glass door slid
open.
In the narrow shop there were four or five men in a circle
hunched over a gas stove. All turned and greeted Yuichi. There
was, however, no note of surprise in their eyes. Yuichi was al­
ready one of them.
The proprietor was a man of about forty, gaunt as wire.
Around his neck he wore a checkered muffler. Beneath the coat
he wore like a cloak, his pajama trousers could be seen. The

[ 171 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

employees were three young chattering men, each in a garish ski

sweater. One customer was present-an old man in a Japanese
overcoat.
"Ooh, it's cold. What a chilly day! And the sun shining like
that." With these words all looked toward the frosted-glass door
through which the weak sun angled dispiritedly.
"Yuchan, are you going skiing?" said one young fellow.
"No, I'm not," he replied.
When Yuichi came in the door he was aware that these men
g
had assembled here because they had no place to o on a Sun­
day. A homosexual's Sunday is pitiful. On that day, all day, no
territory is theirs. The daytime world, they feel, takes over com­
pletely.
Go to the theater, go to a coffeehouse, go to the zoo, go to an
amusement park, go to town, go out to the suburbs even; every­
where the principle of majority rule is lording about in pride.
Old couples, middle-aged couples, young couples, lovers, fami­
lies, children, children, children, children, children and, to top it
off, those blasted baby carriages-all of these things in proces­
sion, a cheering, advancing tide. It was easy for Yuichi, too, to
imitate them and go out walking with Yasuko. But above his
head, somewhere in the shining sky, was God's eye, seeing
through all sham.
Yuichi thought : The only way I can be myself on a bright
Sunday is to lock myself up in a smoked-glass jail like this.
The men gathered here were already sick of each other's com­
pany. Exercising care not to look at each other, they would do
nothing but cling to the topics of long years past. The gossip
about a Hollywood star, the report that a certain high dignitary
was one of their kind, talk about one's own amours, even more
lewd funny stories from broad daylight-these were the topics.
Yuichi had no wish to be here. But he didn't want to be
anywhere else. We human beings sometimes steer off in a direc­
tion in which we hope to find something a little bit better. With
the satisfaction of that moment is combined a joy-"This is a
little bit better"-that revives the impossible wild hopes we hold
in our heart of hearts. For that reason, indeed, Yuichi had just
given Nobutaka the slip so that he could be somewhere like
this.
If he went home, Yasuko's lamb's eyes would fasten upon his,

[ 172 ]
 Blue Sunday

as if in a refrain : "I love you, I love you." Her morning sickness

ended when January was over. Only a sharp pain in her breasts
remained. With these sensitive, easily hurt, purple antennae,
Yasuko reminded him of an insect maintaining contact with the
outside world. That sharp pain in the breasts that without diffi.
culty felt out all the doings ten miles around fille d Yuichi with
indefinable fear.
Now, whenever Yasuko went downstairs rapidly, a sudden
faint pulsation reached her breasts and she felt twinges of sharp
pain. If her slip so much as touched her breasts, they hurt. One
night when Yuichi tried to embrace her, she pleaded pain and
pushed him away. This rejection was in truth unexpected even
for Yasuko. It must have been that instinct had induced a subtle
vengeance within her.
Yuichi's fear of Yasuko had gradually evolved into a compli­
cated, paradoxical thing. Seen as a mere woman, his wife was
much younger than Mrs. Kaburagi and Kyoko, and doubtless
had much more sex appeal. Objectively considered, Yuichi's fick­
leness was irrational. When Yasuko seemed too sure of herself,
he became uncomfortable and sometimes deliberately and awk­
wardly hinted that he was having an affair with another woman.
When Yasuko heard that, a smile that said "How ridiculous!"
started at the corners of her mouth. Her composure deeply
wounded Yuichi's self-respect. At such times Yuichi was threat­
ened by the fear and the unprotected feeling that if anyone
knew he could not love women, Yasuko above all would be that
person.
With that, in strange cruelty, he evolved a selfish theory. If
Yasuko came face to face with the truth that her husband did
not love women altogether, and believed that she h ad been
hoodwinked from the start, there was nothing he could do.
However, there were many husbands around who were able to
love anyone but their wives. In those cases the circumstance in
which the wives were then not being loved was evidence work­
ing against the truth that at some time earlier they had been
loved. It was essential that Yasuko learn that he could not love
her-for the love of Yasuko. To achieve it, Yuichi must now
indulge in a little more debauchery. He must act proud of his
refusal to sleep with his wife, and he must do it without fear, if
he could.

[ 1 73 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

At the same time, there was no doubt that Yuichi loved Ya­
suko. The young wife beside him usually fell asleep after her
husband did, but on nights when she was unusually tired and
the sound of her breathing came to him, Yuichi could relax and
look at her beautiful sleeping face. At such times happiness in
possessing such a lovely creature flooded his breast. It was a
commendable possessiveness, accompanied by no wish to harm.
He thought it strange that in this world he could never, under
any circumstances, be forgiven.
"What are you thinking about, Yuchan?" one of the employees
asked. All three employees here had already h ad relations with
Yuichi.
"He's probably thinking about last night's sex," remarked the
oldest of the three, a man wearing a Japanese overcoat. He
looked toward the door again. "He's late-my sex. We're not of
an age, though, to give each other a hard time."
They all laughed, but Yuichi shivered. This man of sixty-plus
had a lover of sixty-plus.
Yuichi wanted to get away. If he went home, Yasuko might
greet him with joy. If he called Kyoko on the phone, she would
come flying anywhere. If he went to the Kaburagi home, an
almost painful smile of pleasure would flood over Mrs. Ka­
buragi's face. If he met Nobutaka again today, all day-just to
give Yuichi joy he would stand on his head in the middle of the
Ginza. If he called Shunsuke-that's right, he hadn't met this old
man in a long time-his aged voice would rise in eagerness in
the telephone receiver. Nevertheless, Yuichi could not help
thinking that he had a certain virtuous duty to stay here, cut off
from all else.
"To become myself"-is that all? That beautiful thing that
should be-is that all? Not fooling myself-but isn't the self that
fools me myself? Where is the basis of truth? Is it in the moment
when Yuichi for the sake of his outward beauty, for the sake of
the self that exists merely to be seen by people, forfeits every­
thing that is his own ? . Or is it in the moments like this-isolated
from everything, giving up nothing? In the moment he loves
boys, he is close to the last. Right. He himself is a thing like the
sea. The sea's exact depth is the depth of the sea at what time ?
Had his identity sunk to its lowest tide there in the dawn at that
gay party? Or at a time like this lazy high tide, asking for noth­
ing, when anything is too much?

[ 174 ]
 Blue Sunday

Again he was seized by the wish to see Shunsuke. He wished

to go now and tell that trusting old man the most barefaced lies;
it no longer satisfied him to withhold only the story of Nobutaka.

Shunsuke had spent the whole morning of this day read­

ing. He read the Sokonshu and the Tale of Shotetsu. The au­
thors, collectively called Shotetsu, were medieval priests who,
tradition has it, were reincarnations of Teika Fujiwara. Of all the
vast literature of the Middle Ages and the works that have at­
tained world renown, Shunsuke found to his taste only two or
three poets, two or three works. Scenic poems, from which man­
kind is completely absent, like that about the peaceful garden of
the recluse of the Eifuku Gate, or the extraordinary tale of virtue
about the prince who took on himself the guilt of the retainer
Chuta and was beheaded by his own father-the fairy tale called
"The Broken Inks tone"-once nourished Shunsuke's poetic in­
stincts.
In the Tale of Shotetsu, Section 23 says that if someone asks
where Mount Yoshino is, a person should answer that when one
writes poems about cherry blossoms he recalls Mount Yoshino; if
about maple leaves, the River Tatsuta; that's all. Whether it's in
Ise or Hyuga, one doesn't know. The information as to where it
may be is useless to remember. Even though one makes no effort
to remember, however, the fact keeps being remembered of it­
self that Yoshino was in Yamato. That's what it says.
When put into words, youth is a thing like that, the old man
thought. For cherry blossoms, Yoshino; for maple leaves, Tatsuta
-other than that can there be any definition of youth? The artist
spends the half of his life after his youth is over searching for
the meaning of youth. He explores the native land of youth .
What does that amount to? Cognition has already ruptured the
sensual harmony existing between cherry blossoms and Yoshino.
Yoshino has lost it universal meaning. It has become a point on
a map-or a period in past time : Yoshino, in Yamato, nothing
more.
While absorbed in these random reflections, no doubt Shun­
suke without realizing it began to think about Yuichi. He read
the tersely beautiful poem by Shotetsu :

[ l 75 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

I n that moment when

the crowd on the riverbank
sees the boat come in,
and every heart among them
beats with the same emotion.

Shunsuke imagined that moment when the hearts of the crowd

waiting for the boat to come in to the shore purely blended and
crystallized, and he felt a strange palpitation.
He expected four or five guests this Sunday. He had these
guests in because he wished to demonstrate to himself that this
amiability unsuited to his years was mixed with considerable
contempt, but he also did it so that he could confirm the continu­
ing youthfulness of his emotions. His complete works were com­
ing off the press, in ever new editions. The disciples who were
making revisions for him were coming in for conferences. And
what did that amount to? What good did it do to edit slightly
something that was one great error from beginning to end?
Shunsuke wanted to take a trip. He found this piling up of
blue Sundays hard to endure. Yuichi's long silence had made
him quite miserable. He thought he might take a trip alone to
Kyoto. This very lyrical sadness, the frustrating sadness of hav­
ing his writings interrupted by Yuichi's silence, this groan over
things unfinished, as it must be called, was something Shunsuke
had completely forgotten since his days of literary apprentice­
ship over forty years earlier. This groan was a harking back to
the most awkward part of youth , the most unpleasant, least
valuable part. That was a fatalistic incompleteness going far
beyond the usual interruption, a ridiculous incompleteness filled
with humiliation. Every time one reached out one's hand, all the
branches and fruit would be carried high in the wind; no fruit
ever reached the mouth of Tantalus. In this incompleteness his
thirst was never assuaged. In that period, one day-that was
now over thirty years in the past-the artist in Shunsuke was
born. The disease of incompleteness left him. In its place , per­
fection came to threaten. Perfectionism became his chronic
complaint. It was an illness that showed no wound. It was an
illness with no affected part. It was an illness without bacteria,
fever, accelerating pulse, headache or twitches. It was an illness
like death, above all.
He knew that nothing would cure this disease except death­
unless his work died before his body did. The natural death of

[ 176 ]
 Blue Sunday

creativity paid a visit. He became moody. He was, to the same

degree, cheerful. As he no longer turned out books , his forehead
became carved with artistic wrinkles. His neuralgia seized his
knee in romantic twinges. His stomach periodically knew artistic
cramps. Then his hair began to change to the white hair of the
artist.
Since he met Yuichi, the work he had dreamed about h ad to
be crammed with a perfection cured of the disease of perfection­
ism, a health of death cured of the sickness of life. It had to be
the recovery from everything : from youth, from old age, from
art, from life, from venerableness, from world knowledge, from
madness. Through decay, victory over decay; through artistic
death, victory over death; through perfection, victory over per­
fection. All these things the old man dreamed of through Yuichi.
At that time, suddenly, that strange illness of his youth re­
turned; incompleteness and outright failure caught Shunsuke
while he worked.
What was this? He hesitated to give it a name. The horror of
giving it a name made him hesitate. In truth, was it not a pe­
culiar quality of love?
Yuichi's face never left Shunsuke's heart day or night. In his
torture, he reviled him ; by all the mean names he knew he
cursed this false youth in his heart. Only then was he at ease in
the knowledge that he clearly detested this young scoundrel.
With the same mouth he had used to sing praises of Yuichi's
complete absence of intellect, he now ridiculed him for his lack
of intellect. Yuichi's inexperience ; his annoying lady-killer pose ;
his self-centeredness; his intolerable self-love; his outburts of sin­
cerity; his capricious naivete ; those tears ; all the rubbish of his
character : Shunsuke took them up and tried to laugh at them,
but whenever he realized that he in his own youth had not a
single one of them, he sank into abysmal jealousy.
The character of the youth called Yuichi that he had once
grasped was now a will-o'-the-wisp. He realized that he had
until now not known one thing about the youth. Yes, he didn't
know a thing. To begin with, where was the evidence that he
did not love women? Where was the evidence that he loved
boys? Had Shunsuke been on the spot so much as oh e time? But,
then, after all, what did it matter? Wasn't Yuichi supposed to
have no actual existence? If he was real, his meaningless
changeability would be tricking Shunsuke's eyes. How could

[ 177 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

something so unreal put it over on the artist?

Nevertheless Yuichi was gradually-above all through this
silence-at least as far as Shunsuke was concerned, attaining
the state Yuichi himself had so dearly wished for, in other words,
the "real existence." He now appeared before Shunsuke's eyes in
his uncertain, untrue, yet real, beautiful form. In the middle of
the night, Shunsuke started to ponder : Somewhere in this great
city, now, whom is Yuichi embracing? Yasuko? Kyoko? Mrs. Ka­
buragi? Or some nameless boy? He did not go back to sleep. On
the day after such nights he would go to Ruden's. Yuichi, how­
ever, would not appear. It went against Shunsuke's grain to meet
Yuichi accidentally at Ruden's. It would be particularly horrible
to receive a distant nod from this lone youth who had slipped his
traces.
This Sunday was especially hard to take. He looked out of the
window of his study at the withered, tufty lawn of the garden.
There was a hint of snow. The color of the dry grass seemed
faintly bright with warmth ; it made him think a weak sun was
shining. He strained his eyes. The sun wasn't coming through
anywhere . He closed his Tale of Shotetsu and put it aside. What
was he looking for? Sunlight? Snow? He rubbed his shriveled
hands as if they were cold. He looked down at the lawn again.
As he did so a wisp of sunlight bled into the front of that gloomy
garden.
He went down to the garden.
A lone surviving Corbicula moth was fluttering about on the
lawn. He stepped on it with his garden geta. When he sat down
in a chair in a corner of the garden he took off one geta and
looked at the bottom of it. A scaly dust mixed with frost shone
there. Shunsuke felt refreshed.
A human shape appeared in the dark veranda : "Master, your
scarf, your scarf!"
The old maidservant was calling inconsiderately in a loud
voice. Over her ann fluttered a gray scarf. She put on garden
geta and started to come down into the garden, when she heard
the telephone ringing in the dark house. She turned her back
and lunged off in that direction. To Shunsuke, that intermittent,
sharp ring sounded like an auditory hallucination. The pulse
raced in his breast. This vision that had betrayed him so many
times , would it be Yuichi on the phone this time ?

[ 178 ]
 Blue Sunday

They met at Rudon's. After getting off the trolley from

Kanda Station at Yurakucho, Yuichi lithely threaded the Sunday
throng. Everywhere men and women were strolling together.
Not one of those men was as beautiful as Yuichi. The women all
stole looks at him. Bold women turned their heads. In that
moment women in their hearts forgot the existence of the man
beside them. At times when he perceived this, Yuichi reveled in
the abstract joy of his hatred of women.
In the daytime Rudon's was like the usual tea room , even its
clientele. The youth sat down in his usual chair in the back. He
took off his scarf and overcoat and held his hands out toward the
gas heater.
"Yuchan, you haven't been here for a while. \Vho are you
meeting today?" asked Rudy.
"Grandpa," Yuichi replied. Shunsuke had not yet arrived. In a
chair across the way a woman with a face like a fox, her hands
folded in their soiled deerskin gloves, talked chummily with a
man.
Yuichi was anticipating Shunsuke's arrival. He felt like a mid­
dle school student who had mischievously concealed something
in the teacher's desk and was now waiting impatiently for the
teacher to come in and start the class.
After about ten minutes, Shunsuke arrived. He wore a black
chesterfield with velvet collar and carried a pigskin suitcase.
Silently he came and sat down before Yuichi. The old man's eyes
seemed to enfold him in their shining stare. Yuichi perceived in
his eyes an indescribable stupidity. Reason enough. Shunsuke's
heart, incapable of learning from experience, was again plan­
ning some foolishness.
The steam from their coffee gave countenance to their silence.
They clumsily started to speak at the same time, and their words
clashed. This time , oddly enough, Shunsuke was the shy one.
"It's been a long time," said Yuichi. ''I've been busy for so long
with my exams, and there's been trouble at home. Besides-"
"That's all right. That's all right." Shunsuke quickly forgave
everything.
In the short time he had not seen Yuichi, the youth had
changed. His words, every one of them, were pregnant with

[ ' 79 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

adult secrets. All the many wounds he used to lay out before
Shunsuke without reserve were now firmly wrapped in antiseptic
bandages. Yuichi looked like a youth without a care.
Let him lie, Shunsuke thought. He seems to have graduated
from the age of confession. Just the same the sincerity of his age
is stamped on his brow. It is a sincerity appropriate to an age
which prefers lies to confession. He asked aloud : "How's Mrs.
Kaburagi?"
''I'm right at her side," said Yuichi, thinking Shunsuke must
have heard of his becoming private secretary. "She couldn't live
without having me near her to be nice to her. Mter a while she
talked her husband into setting me up as his private secretary.
Now we can meet at worst every three days."
"That woman has gotten patient, hasn't she? She didn't used
to be one who would worm herself in like that, did she ?"
Yuichi contradicted him, his voice rising from nervousness :
"Just the same, that's what she is now."
"You're defending her ! You haven't fallen in love with her,
have you?"
Yuichi almost laughed at how widely Shunsuke had missed the
mark.
Outside of that, however, the two had nothing to talk about.
They were very much like two lovers who came to meet each
other thinking of all the things they would say when they got
together, and when they met had forgotten them all.
Shunsuke had to turn to his primary proposal : "I'm going to
Kyoto this evening."
"Is that right?" Yuichi eyed his suitcase without a flicker of
interest.
"How about it? Would you like to go with me?"
"Tonight?" The youth's eyes widened.
"When you called me, I decided to leave right away, tonight.
Look, I have two sleeping-car tickets ; one's yours."
"But, I-"
"Call home and tell them ; it'll be all right. Let me talk to them
and make the excuses for you. We'll be staying at the Rakuyo
Hotel, in front of the station. Call Mrs. Kaburagi, too; she can fix
things up with the count. She trusts me, at least. Stay with me
this evening until it's time to go. We'll go anywhere you like."
"But my job-"
"It pays to let jobs go once in a while."

[ 1 80 ]
 Blue Sunday

"But my exams-"
"I'll buy you the books you need for your exams. In two or
three days' traveling you'd be lucky to read one. All right,
Yuchan? Your face looks tired. Travel is the best medicine. In
Kyoto you won't have a care in the world."
Yuichi again felt himself powerless before this strange force.
He thought a moment and consented. In truth, although he did
not know it, a hurried departure on a trip was just what his heart
had been crying for. If this opportunity hadn't come along, this
blue Sunday would surely h ave driven him to take off for some­
where.
Shunsuke quickly took care of the two telephone calls. Passion
drove him to more than ordinary powers. There were still eight
hours until the night train departed. He thought of the guests
who were being kept waiting and, for Yuichi's edification alone,
used up the time at the movies, the dance hall, and restaurants.
Yuichi paid no attention to his aged patron ; Shunsuke was
happy enough. Mter they had managed to sample the town's
ordinary pleasures, they walked the streets with happy, mild
intoxication. Yuichi carried Shunsuke's bag. Shunsuke walked
with the long strides of a young man, his breathing animated.
Both were drunk on the freedom of having nowhere to go back
to that night.
"Today, I didn't want to go back horne, no matter what," said
Yuichi.
"There are days like that-when you're young. There are days
when everybody seems to be living a rat's life, and on those days
you hate living like a rat more than ever."
"On days like that, what can you do?"
"You can at least gnaw the time up as would a rat. When you
do that you make a little hole. Even though you still can't escape
you can at least stick your nose out."
They watched for a new cab, stopped it, and directed it to the
station.

[ 181 ]
 CHAPTER

FLIGHT IN
F O R M A TI O N

IN THE AFTERNOON of the day they arrived in Kyoto, Shun­

suke hired a cab and introduced Yuichi to the Daigo Temple.
When the car passed the wintry fields of the Yarnashina Valley,
some convicts from the prison in that area were repairing the
roads. It was like unrolling the scroll of a dark tale of the
Middle Ages; the convicts stood clearly visible outside the win­
dow, and two or three of them craned their necks to peer inside
the car. Their work clothes were dark blue, reminiscent of the
northern sea.
"Poor fellows," said the young man, usually moved only by the
pleasures of human existence.
"I don't feel a thing," said the old man. "When you get to be
my age, you'll become like that, I expect-immune even to the
fear of having that happen to your imagination. Not only that,
fame has an odd effect. Countless people I don't recall ever
having seen before storm up looking as if I owe them something.
In short, I am in the dilemma of being expected to have count­
less emotional responses. If I don't have even one emotion on
call, I find myself branded as a mere brute. Sympathy toward
sadness, altruism toward indigence, gladness for good fortune,
understanding toward love-in my emotional bank, as it were, I
must always have ready gold for countless convertible notes cur­
rent in society. If I don't, faith in the bank falls. Since I've
brought faith down as much as it can go, I'm content."
The cab went through the Sammon of the Daigo Temple and

[ 1 82 J
 Flight in Formation

stopped in front of the gate of the Samboin. In the square front

garden with its famous weeping cherry trees, winter reigned,
ordering all into square shapes-winter given over to mainte­
nance. This feeling deepened greatly as they mounted to the
entrance with the two characters, Ranho, for the red and the
blue phoenix, written large on a single leaf screen, and as they
were shown to chairs in the sunny projection of the garden
pavilion. The garden was so packed with artificial winter, so
controlled, so abstracted, so composed, so carefully planned, that
there was no space for real winter to enter. Standing by each
and e very rock, the graceful form of winter made itself felt. The
island in the center was decorated with shapely pines; the little
waterfall in the southeastern part of the garden was frozen. The
artificial mountain fastness covering the southern side was
mostly evergreens, and thanks to that, even in this season, the
impression was far from weak that the garden view extended
endlessly through groves of trees.
While they waited until the abbot carne, Yuichi bathed once
more in the privilege of hearing Shunsuke's lectures. As he saw
it, the gardens of Kyoto's various temples were the most direc t
statement o f esthetic Japanese thinking. The craftmanship of
this garden, the view from the moon-viewing platform of the
Katsura Detached Palace-the most representative example­
as well as the copying shown in the glen of the mountains in the
background of the Katsura's Shokatei : in the extreme artficiality
of their skillful copying of nature, they attempted to betray na­
ture. Between nature and the work of art, there is a secret rebel­
lion brewing. The revolt of the work of art against nature is like
the intellectual defilement of a woman who gives her body away.
These famous old gardens are fastened by the cord of a passion
for the invisibly faithless female known as the work of art. They
are men who h ave forgotten their basic warlike mission. We look
at them and see alliances of never-ending despair, marital lives
filled with fatigue.
The abbot appeared then. He expressed regret that he and
Shunsuke saw so little of each other. Then he ushered the two
into another room. At Shunsuke's insistence, he showed them a
document that was kept hidden in the most esoteric precincts of
the temple. The old writer wanted to show it to Yuichi.
In the back of the book the date was given as the first year of
Genkyo ( 1 3 2 1 ) . It was a secret book of the time of the Emperor
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

Godaigo. They rolled the scroll out on the tatarni li t b y the winter
sun. Its name was the Copybook on the Catamite. Yuichi
couldn't read the foreword, but Shunsuke put on his glasses and
read it flawlessly :

About the time the Ninna temple was established, i t seems,

there was in that place a priest well respected in the world.
As he grew older he became distinguished for his knowledge
of the three laws, his virtues, and his experience, but he could
not refrain from certain practices. Among the many boys
serving there, was one whom he loved dearly, with whom
he slept. When a man grows old, no matter how high or low
his birth, his body will not continue to do what be wishes.
Though the priest's desires mounted, his body was like a scene
of the moon sinking into the e arth, or the dying fall of an
arrow shot over a mountain. The unhappy boy wrote letters
every night to Chuta, the son of his governess, and with him
did . . .

The homosexual pictures that were shown following this sim­

ple, frank foreword were filled with a pleasant, artless sensuality.
As Yuichi studied excitedly every scene, Sbunsuke's mind was
drawn to the name of the son, Cbuta, the very name of the
retainer in "The Broken Inkstone." The innocent prince had
taken the blame of the family retainer on himself. The strength
of character that led him to keep silent even until death led one
to imagine some kind of pact in the terse, simple description. As
a result was not just the sound of the name Cbuta-one given to
the person fulfilling that particular function-enough to bring a
dark smile to the faces of the men of that age?
This scholarly problem did not leave Sbunsuke's mind as they
rode back in the cab. When they ran into Mr. and Mrs. Kaburagi
in the hotel lobby, all his leisurely contemplations went out the
window.
"Are you surprised?" said Mrs. Kaburagi, holding out her hand
from her mink jacket. Nobutaka, looking strangly composed,
got up from the chair behind her. For a moment, the older
people behaved quite awkwardly. Only Yuichi was relaxed,
keenly aware of his extraordinary youthful power.
For a moment Sbunsuke could not grasp what the Kaburagis
were up to. He put on the formal scowl he assumed when be had
his mind fixed on something else. The professional discernment
of the novelist led him, however, to ponder the first impression
 Flight in Formation

the couple had given him : This is the first time I've ever seen
this pair so close. It makes you feel they've got their heads
together in some plot.
In fact, the Kaburagis had been pretty close lately. Perhaps
from contrition over the fact that each was using the other to
gain something from Yuichi, or perhaps from gratitude, the cou­
ple were treating each other with much more consideration than
ever before. Theirs was a marvelous meeting of minds. This calm
and collected couple would face each other across the kotatsu
and read newspapers and magazines far into the night. Should
there be a sound in the direction of the ceiling, they would look
up at the same time; their eyes would meet, and they would
smile.
"You're pretty jumpy lately."
"So are you."
Mter that they would sit for a time, unable to control the
inexplicable surgings in their hearts.
Another unbelievable change was Mrs. Kaburagi's transforma­
tion into a housewife. She stayed home so that when Yuichi had
to come to the house on company business she could feast him
on cakes of her own making. She was even knitting him a pair of
socks.
To Nobutaka, his wife's knitting was an utter absurdity. Fas­
cinated by it, he bought a great quantity of imported wool and,
knowing that she would sooner or later use it to make Yuichi a
sweater, he played the part of the doting husband and held the
skeins while his wife rolled the yam. The calm satisfaction he
felt in this task was incomparable.
Although Mrs. Kaburagi's love was thus becoming so obvious,
when it occurred to her that she had as yet received not a single
reward from it, she remained serene. There was something un­
natural about this relationship between her and her husband,
but she felt that even though her love had not been consum­
mated, her husband was not looking down on her because of
it.
At first Nobutaka had been offended by his wife's stolid
composure. He had felt that she and Yuichi were probably inti­
mate. Mter a time he realized that these fears were imaginary.
Her unwonted action in hiding this love from her husband­
something she did intuitively for no other reason than that it was
true love-sprang from the sister of Nobutaka's emotion, which

[ 1 8) ]
 F O R B I D D E N COL ORS

had to be carefully hidden because of its forbidding aspects.

Nobutaka was sometimes perilously tempted by it to talk about
Yuichi with his wife. Yet when she praised Yuichi's beauty too
highly, he would be struck again by anxiety over what Yuichi
was up to each day, and he would end up maligning Yuichi like
a normal husband jealous of his wife's lover. When they heard of
his going off on a trip, they were brought even closer together.
"Let's go to Kyoto right after the two of them," Nobutaka said.
Oddly enough, his wife had felt that he would say such a thing.
Early the next morning they departed.
Thus the Kaburagis ran into Shunsuke and Yuichi in the lobby
of the Rakuyo Hotel.
Yuichi saw a servile look gleaming in Nobutaka's eyes. Thanks
to this first impression, Nobutaka's reprimand had no authority.
"What kind of private secretary are you? Who ever heard of a
company where the private secretary goes off and the chairman
of the board and his wife have to pursue him? Better watch out !"
Nobutaka abruptly shifted his gaze to Shunsuke and with an
inoffensive smile, full of social banter, he added : "Mr. Hinoki
must really be captivating !"
Mrs. Kaburagi and Shunsuke each defended Yuichi, but he
made no apology, and simply cast a cool glance toward Nobu­
taka, filling that poor man with anger and chagrin that left him
speechless.
It was time for supper. Nobutaka wanted to go out to eat, but
everyone was tired and did not relish traipsing about the frigid
street; so they went to the restaurant on the sixth floor and
huddled around a single table. Mrs. Kaburagi's stylish checkered
suit, of fabric designed for men, fitted her well, and the slight
fatigue of the trip made her somehow extremely attractive. Her
color, however, was rather poor. Her skin had the whiteness of a
gardenia. Happiness is the feeling of being slightly drunk,
slightly ill. Nobutaka knew that was what gave his wife's face its
lyrical shading.
Yuichi could not help being aware that these three mature
adults could blithely veer from the beaten path of common sense
on his account, and in doing so act completely in disregard of
him. There was Shunsuke, for instance, who had abruptly car­
ried him off on a journey away from his job. There were the
Kaburagis , who had followed them to Kyoto as if it happened
every day. Each attempted to palliate his own conduct by push-

[ 186 ]
 Flight in Formation

ing it off on another. Nobutaka, for instance, offered the pretext

that he had come only to please his wife. The reasons each gave
for coming would be shown up in all their unnaturalness if ex­
amined coldly. At this dining table it was hard not to feel that
each of the four was supporting one of t�e corners of a single
fragile spider's web.
They drank Cointreau and got a little high. Yuichi was re­
pelled by Nobutaka's pose as the man of magnanimity and good
will. He was repelled by the childish vanity with which Kabu­
ragi advertised over and over to Shunsuke his deference to his
wife-how he had made Yuichi private secretary at his wife's
behest, and how he had taken this trip also on her account.
In Shunsuke's eyes, however, this wild avowal seemed plausi­
ble. It was entirely plausible to him that a frigid marriage might
have been rejuvenated by the wiles of a wayward wife .
Mrs. Kaburagi had been pleased by the call Yuichi had made
the night before. She believed that the cause of his compulsive
flight to Kyoto was not so much to get away from her as to get
away from Nobutaka. Somehow I can't get hold of what this
young man is thinking. That's why he always seems so refresh­
ing. Whenever I look at his eyes they are so beautiful. How
youthful his smile I
On different soil, she found that gazing at Yuichi had new
charm. Her poetic spirit was firmly struck by this tiny bit of
inspiration. Oddly, it gave her more of a lift to look at Yuichi in
her husband's presence. Lately she hadn't been particularly
titillated by talking to him alone. At such times she had only
become ill at ease and irritated.
This hotel was used exclusively by foreign buyers and there­
fore had comfortable central heating. They sat by the window
and talked while looking down at the lighted activity of Kyoto
Station across the way. Shunsuke behaved as if he didn't see Mrs.
Kaburagi, who had noticed that Yuichi's cigarette case was
empty and took a pack out of her bag and slipped it into his
pocket.
"My dear wife, it doesn't pay to bribe my secretary." Nobu­
taka watched his wife's every move and wished to make that
public. His ostentatiousness about it seemed ridiculous to Shun­
suke.
"I think trips for no reason at all are a good idea," said Mrs.
Kaburagi. "Where shall we all go tomorrow?"
 FORB I D D E N C OL O R S

Shunsuke looked at her h ard as she spoke. She was beautiful,

but quite deficient in appeal.
He had loved her and been blackmailed for it by her husband,
but what he loved her for was her lack of spirituality. Now,
however, in contrast to that earlier time, she had entirely forgot­
ten about her own beauty. Shunsuke watched her smoking. She
lit a cigarette, took two or three puffs from it and laid it in the
ash tray. Then, forgetting the cigarette she had started smoking,
she took out a fresh one and lit it. Yuichi held out his lighter and
lighted each of them.
This woman is as clumsy as an ugly old maid, Shunsuke
thought. His revenge was already complete.
By all rights they should all have gone to bed early, tired as
they were from traveling. A little thing happened, though, that
served to bring them all wide awake. It was caused by Nobu­
taka, who was suspicious about what was going on between
Yuichi and Shunsuke. He suggested that this evening they divide
up so that he and Shunsuke shared one room, while Yuichi and
his wife shared the other.
Nobutaka's effrontery in proposing this cynical scheme re­
minded Shunsuke of the man's past trickery. He did it out of the
innocence that belonged to his unscrupulous, noble person and
out of his ability to be brutally insensitive to another's feelings.
It was courtly cruelty at its worst. The Kaburagi family was very
high in the nobility.
"I haven't talked to you in a long time and would enjoy it,"
Nobutaka said. "I would hate to go to sleep at once. You're
accustomed to staying up pretty late, I suppose, sir. The bar is
going to close right away, so how about it? Let's h ave some
drinks brought to our room and sit awhile." He looked at his
wife. "You and Mr. Minami look sleepy. Don't fret; go on to bed.
It's all right if Minami sleeps in my room. I'll just go to Mr.
Hinoki's room and talk for a while. I might even ask him if I can
stay over in his room, so don't worry about me, and sleep well."
Yuichi naturally demurred. Shunsuke was simply shocked.
The youth enlisted Shunsuke's aid with his eyes. This filled the
keen-sighted Nobutaka with jealousy.
As for Mrs. Kaburagi, she was accustomed to treatment of this
sort from her husband. This time, however, the problem was
different. The man was her dearly beloved Yuichi. She almost
voiced her resentment of her husband's rudeness, but the temp-

[ 188 ]
 Flight in Formation

tation that she might secure what she wished all day, every day,
placed anger out of the question.
She was tortured by the hope that Yuichi would not hold her
in contempt. The power of that lofty emotion had led her to this
point, but now for the first time she had the opportunity of
separating herself from it. If she did not, she might not be able
by her own efforts alone to devise a second opportunity. This
inward battle only raged for a few seconds in time, but the
unwillingness and yet the joy in the feeling which accompanied
her decision seemed like the result of a battle that took years.
She turned to the youth she loved and smiled as gently as a
whore.
In Yuichi's eyes, however, Mrs. Kaburagi had never looked so
gentle and so maternal as now. He listened while she s aid : "All
right, you old men enjoy yourselves . If I have another day with­
out enough sleep, I'll get bags under my eyes. Those who can't
possibly get any more wrinkles can sit up all night, or whatever
they like."
She looked at Yuichi and said : "Yuchan, don't you think it's
time to go to sleep?"
"Yes."
Yuichi immediately made a great show of being overcome by
sleepiness. Mrs. Kaburagi was fascinated by the crudeness of the
performance.
This went on with a naturalness that filled Shunsuke with
dismay, but he found no opening by which to thwart them. He
just couldn't figure out what Nobutaka had in mind. The tone of
these proceedings seemed to be entirely concerned with arrang­
ing something between Yuichi and Mrs. Kaburagi. He could not
fathom what made Nobutaka countenance this.
Shunsuke also did not know how Yuichi felt about it, so his
ready wit was hindered. There in the soft chairs by the bar he
racked his brains for something h armless to say to Nobutaka.
At last he said : "Mr. Kaburagi, do you happen to know the
meaning of the name Chuta?"
As he brought this out he recalled the content of the mystic
book, and said nothing more. This topic could cause trouble for
Yuichi.
"Chuta?" Nobutaka asked sleepily. "Is that a man's name?" He
had drunk more than he could hold and was already far gone :
"Chuta? Chuta? Oh, that's my alias."
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O RS

The reply made Shunsuke's eyes open wide.

After a time the four got up and took the elevator down to the
third floor.
The two rooms were three rooms apart. Yuichi and Mrs.
Kaburagi went into the one farther back, 3 I 5. They said nothing.
She got up and locked the door.
Yuichi took off his j acket, which only increased his embar­
rassment. He walked about the room like an animal pacing a
cage. He opened the empty drawers one by one. Mrs. Kaburagi
asked him if he wanted to bathe. He told her to go first.
While she was in the tub, someone knocked at the door.
Yuichi opened it, and Shunsuke entered.
"May I use your bath? Ours is out of order."
"Surely."
Shunsuke took Yuichi by the arm and said : "Are you inter­
ested in this at all?"
"I can't stand it."
The liquid voice of Mrs. Kaburagi came from the bathroom
clear and hollow as it echoed from the ceiling : "Yuchan? Would
you like to get in with me?"
"Oh ? "
" I left the door open."
Shunsuke pushed past Yuichi and turned the doorknob. He
passed through the dressing room and opened the inner door a
crack. Mrs. Kaburagi's face went white.
"At your age ?" she said, lightly touching the surface of the
water.
"A long time ago your husband came into our bedroom in just
this way," Shunsuke said.

[ 190 ]
 CHAPTER 17

ONE ' S HEART'S DE SIRE

MRS. KABURAGI was not a woman to be overly shaken by

happenings. Rising from the soap bubbles in the bathtub, she
stood erect. She looked at Shunsuke without wavering. "If you
wish to come in, please do."
That naked body, deterred by not a trace of shyness, treated
the old man standing there as if he were little more than a stone
by the roadside. The wet breasts glowed, for all the world un­
moved. Shunsuke's eyes were assaulted for a moment by the
beauty of the body that had filled out and ripened with the
years, but then, coming back to himself, he thought of the dumb
humiliation he himself was experiencing, and all his desire to
look further fled. The naked woman was serene ; the old man
before whom she stood exposed was the one to blush in embar­
rassment. For a moment Shunsuke felt as if he understood
Yuichi's pain.
"I just don't seem to have the capacity for revenge. My
potency for revenge, too, is gone."
After this blinding confrontation, Shunsuke silently drew back
and closed the bathroom door. Yuichi, of course, had not en­
tered. Shunsuke found himself alone in the little dressing room
with the light out. He closed his eyes and saw a bright vision- a
vision evoked by the sound o f hot water.
Shunsuke was tired of standing, yet too embarrassed to return
to Yuichi. He sank into a squat, grumbling in reasonless discon­
tent. Mrs. Kaburagi gave no sign of getting out of her bath.
After a time Shunsuke heard her rising from the water. The
door opened roughly. A wet hand turned on the light in the

[ 1 !) 1 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

dressing room. Mrs. Kaburagi looked at Shunsuke , who had

risen suddenly from the doglike crouch he had assumed. She
said, with no surprise in her voice : "Are you still there?" She was
wearing a slip. Shunsuke helped her like a lackey.
When the two came out into the room, Yuichi was quietly
smoking a cigarette and looking out of the window into the
night. He turned to ask : "Have you finished with your bath,
sir?"
"Yes, he has," said Mrs. Kaburagi, answering for him.
"You were pretty fast !"
"You go now," she said brusquely. 'We11 be in the other
room."
Yuichi went to take his turn in the bath, and Mrs. Kaburagi
hurried Shunsuke to his own room, where Nobutaka was wait­
ing.
"You didn't have to act so short with Yuichi," Shunsuke said in
the hall.
"You two had it all worked out, didn't you?" she replied. She
did not realize that he had come to Yuichi's rescue.
Kaburagi had passed the time playing solitaire. Seeing his
wife enter, he said, absolutely without feeling : "You're back,
eh ?"
The three played poker listlessly. Yuichi came back from his
bath. His skin, refreshed from the bath, glowed with youthful
loveliness. His cheeks were flushed like a boy's. He smiled at
:Mrs. Kaburagi. Teased by his innocent grin, the corners of her
mouth arched. She nudged her husband, who stood up.
"It's your turn to bathe. We'll sleep over in that room. Mr.
Hinoki and Yuchan will stay here."
Perhaps because this announcement sounded so decisive,
Nobutaka did not demur. Good nights were exchanged all
around. Mrs. Kaburagi went two or three steps and then turned
and, as if to apologize for her earlier brusqueness, squeezed
Yuichi's hand tenderly. Her rejection, she felt, had taught him
enough of a lesson.
Thus, in the end, only Shunsuke had made a bad draw : only
he had not taken a bath.
He and Yuichi got into their beds and turned off the lights.
In a somewhat jesting tone, Yuichi spoke in the darkness :
"Thanks for what you did."

[ 192 ]
 One's Hcart's Desire

Shunsuke turned over contentedly. A recollection of friendship

in his youth, a memory of his donnitory life in high school, came
back to him. It had been a time when Shunsuke was writing
poetry. His vices had managed to go no further.
Regret was in his voice as he spoke in the darkness : "Yuchan,
I h ave lost the power to avenge myself. Only you can get re-
·

venge against that woman."

The voice, filled with the tension of youth, came back from the
dark : "She certainly got short-tempered fast, didn't she?"
"Never mind. Her eyes flatly contradict her coldness. It's really
a good opportunity. All you have to do is give her a jumbled
childish explanation and she'll sweeten up. She'll be dreaming
about you more than ever. Tell her this : 'Even though that old
man introduced us, he became fiendishly jealous when we got
attached to each other. The bathroom incident was caused by his
jealousy entirely !' Tell her that, and everything willfit together."
"All right."
The extreme docility in his voice made Shunsuke feel that the
arrogant Yuichi be had met after so long had changed since
yesterday to the Yuichi of old. He decided to use the momentum
he had gained and said : "How's Kyoko doing lately, do you
know?"
,
4''No.�
"Lazy! My, you're a peck of trouble. Kyoko has gone right off
and found herself another lover. I hear she tells everybody she
meets that she's forgotten Yuchan exists. It's gotten so bad, there
are rumors she's separating from her husband so she can go off
with this fellow."
Shunsuke stopped talking, alert to the effect his words would
have. The effect was pronounced. Yuichi's conceit was pierced.
The blood ran.
His murmured response after a moment, however, couched
words that did not come from a young man's heart : "Fine, if that
makes her happy."
As he said these words, the youth , in honesty to himself, could
not help recalling his manly vow when he met Kyoko in the door
of the shoe store : "All right. I'll really make that woman un­
happy."
This paradox of a knight was repenting for neglecting the
mission in which he was to lay down his life for the unhappiness

[ 193 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

of womankind. Another anxiety, half superstition, nagged at

him. \Vhenever a woman treated him coldly he could not help
wondering if she had discovered his distaste for her sex.
Shunsuke detected a cold ferocity in Yuichi's voice, and he
breathed easier. Then he casually said : "As far as I have ob­
served, though, the only thing wrong with her is that she can't
forget you. Several things make me believe that. So when you
get back to Tokyo, why don't you call Kyoko up? It certainly
won't lower you in her estimation."
Yuichi did not reply. Shunsuke felt the youth would certainly
call Kyoko when he returned to Tokyo.
The two were silent. Yuichi seemed to have dropped off to
sleep. Shunsuke did not know quite how best to show the full­
ness of his heart, and turned over again. The bed creaked; the
warmth was exactly right ; all was right with the world. He had
come to realize how mad it would be to make a trial of what had
occurred to him in a daring moment : "I shall let Yuichi know
that I love him." Was anything more required between them?
Someone knocked at the door. After two or three raps, Shun-
suke called : "\Vho is it?"
"Kaburagi."
"Come in."
Shunsuke and Yuichi turned on the lights at their pillows.
Nobutaka entered, in a white shirt and dark-brown trousers.
With forced cheerfulness he said: ''I'm sorry to disturb you, but I
left my cigarette case behind."
Shunsuke sat up. He told Nobutaka where the room light was.
Nobutaka switched it on. The plain hotel room, with its two
beds, a night table, a vanity, two or three chairs, and other
furnishings sprang into light. Nobutaka crossed the room with
the ostentatious gait of a juggler.
He picked up a tortoise-shell cigarette case from the table,
opened it, and arranged its contents. Then he went to the mirror,
and pulled down one lower eyelid as if to see whether his eye
was bloodshot.
"There. Excuse me. Good night."
He turned off the light and departed.
"Was that cigarette case on the table all the time?" asked
Shunsuke.
"I didn't notice," Yuichi said.

[ 194 ]
 One's Heart's Desire

Back from Kyoto, Yuichi felt his heart riven with unhappi­
ness whenever he thought of Kyoko. As Shunsuke had calcu­
lated, the proud youth called her up. She hemmed and hawed
sulkily for a time, wondering whether she could and whether she
couldn't, but when Yuichi was about to hang up she hurriedly
told him where and when she would meet him.
Examinations were near at hand. Yuichi was cramming in the
economics, but when he compared his present work with his
performance in last year's exam, he was amazed at his inability
to absorb it. He had lost the pure rapturous joy he used to get
when he plunged feverishly into differential calculus. This young
man, learned in the techniques of being half in touch with
reality and half in contempt of it, under the influence of Shun­
suke preferred to find in all thought only pretense and in all life
only the spell of custom that devoured it. The miseries he saw in
the adult world since he had come to know Shunsuke were
entirely unexpected. The men with position, fame, and money­
the three-in-one on the marquee of the masculine world-ot
course did not wish to lose them ; but it staggered the imagina
tion to see how at times they seemed to despise them. Shunsuke's
behavior amazed Yuichi at first. He trampled on his own reputa­
tion as if he were a pagan treading on a tablet designed to detect
Christians : without a care, or, worse, with a burst of sadistic
laughter in the pleasure of it, the joy of it.
On the appointed day, Yuichi arrived fifteen minutes late at
the store where Kyoko was waiting. Kyoko was standing on the
sidewalk in front of the store, fidgeting. She pinched Yuichi's
arm hard and complained about his lack of consideration. Her
quite ordinary charm, it must be said, served somewhat to
dampen Yuichi's enthusiasm.
It was a fair day in early spring, though cold. Even in the
bustle of the street a certain limpid quality could be felt. The air
was for all the world like transparent quartz against the skin.
Under his navy-blue coat Yuichi wore his student uniform, so his
high neckband and white collar stood out above his muffler.
Kyoko looked at the neckband that formed a line with his shoul­
ders as he walked beside her. She saw the white collar neat upon
the soft shaven skin and caught the scent of early spring. Her

( I95 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C OL ORS

dark-green overcoat was pinched in at the waist. Inside her

turned-up collar a salmon-colored scarf protected her throat.
Where it touched her neck, traces of flesh-colored powder clung.
Her cold, red little mouth was amiable.
This giddy woman had not said one word of complaint about
Yuichi's silence, and he was held captive by the uncomfortable
sense that something was missing, like a boy whose mother is
silent when he expects to be scolded. In spite of all the months
and days that had gone by since their last rendezvous , she pos­
sessed no sense of rupture-evidence that her passion passed
along a fixed, safe track, as from the beginning. Be it as it may,
the light-hearted appearance of a woman like Kyoko served the
purposes of concealment and self-control. It was always her way,
actually, to be taken in by a frivolous exterior.
They went to a nearby street corner, where a new Renault was
parked. A man sitting in the driver's seat smoking a cigarette
indolently opened the door from the inside . When Yuichi
paused, Kyoko invited him to get in and slid in beside him. She
introduced them swiftly : "Cousin Keichan-Mr. Namiki."
Namiki, who seemed about thirty, turned in the driver's seat
and nodded. Yuichi was suddenly cloaked in the guise of a
cousin, and without a by-your-leave his name had been changed ,
but Kyoko's game, he knew, had not started here. Intuitively he
perceived that Namiki was Kyoko's rumored lover. His own
position comforted him considerably. He almost forgot to be
jealous.
Yuichi did not ask where they were going, so Kyoko slipped
her arm under his and quietly took his gloved fingers in hers.
Then she spoke softly in his e ar : "Don't be angry. We're going to
Yokohama today to buy some dress material for me; on the way
back we'll stop somewhere and eat. There's nothing to get upset
about. Namiki, though , is mad because I wouldn't sit in the front
seat. I'm going to break it off with him. I brought you along on
this trip as a demonstration."
"You're demonstrating against me, too, I suppose."
"Silly. I'm the one who should have suspicions about you. Are
you keeping busy in your work as private secretary?"
Kyoko and Yuichi whispered together throughout the thirty­
minute journey along the Keihin National Highway to Yoko­
hama. Namiki said not a word. Indeed, Yuichi played well the
part of the ardent rival for the love of a lady.

[ I I) 6 ]
 One's Heart's Desire

Today Kyoko seemed like a woman whose giddiness would

always prevent her from falling in love. She chatted about use­
less things; she left out the essentials. The only saving merit of
this shallowness was that she failed to convince Yuichi of all the
happiness that was hers. The world is in error when it refers to
unconscious concealment of this kind, practiced by an unsophis­
ticated woman, as coquetry. With Kyoko flightiness was like a
fever; only in the midst of her ravings could the truth be heard.
Among the coquettes of the metropolis, there were many who
had become coquettes out of shyness. Kyoko was one of them.
Since she had last seen Yuichi, Kyoko had slipped back into
frivolous thoughtlessness. Her shallowness was limitless; her life
was absolutely rudderless. Her friends loved to come by and
watch the life she led, but no one had the wit to notice that her
frantic activity at this time was like the frivolity of men dancing
barefoot on red-hot iron. She didn't think about anything. She
couldn't read a novel all the way through, but after reading one
third would skip to the last page. There was something disor­
ganized about the things she said. When she sat down, she
would soon cross her legs. Even then, her leg would tremble as if
she were bored. When she happened to write a letter, the ink
would stick to her finger or her dress.
Since Kyoko did not know what love was, she mistook it for
boredom. She passed the months and days she did not see Yuichi
wondering why she was so bored. As ink stuck to her dress or
her fingers, ennui clung to her everywhere.
They passed Tsurumi, and when the sea became visible be­
tween the yellow warehouses of a refrigeration plant, Kyoko
squealed like a child : "Oh, the ocean !" An old steam engine in
the harbor passed between the warehouses pulling freight cars
and blocked the sea from view. By the time the men looked
again, there was nothing to exclaim about. The port sky in early
spring was smirched by soot and smoke and a forest of masts.
Kyoko was sure that the two men riding with her were in love
with her-it was her unshakable conviction. Or was it only an
illusion?
Yuichi, observing the passion of a woman with the feelings of
a stone, his body incapable of responding to her, had become
involved in the paradoxical process of thinking that since he
could not make any woman who loved him happy, the only
thing he could do for Kyoko, the only spiritual gift he could give

( I97 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

her, was to make her unhappy. As a result, he felt not the slight­
est moral compunction about the purposeless revenge he held in
store for Kyoko.
The three got out of the car in front of a little store that sold
women's dress material, on a corner of Yokohama's Chinatown.
Here, imported goods could be bought cheaply, so Kyoko had
come to select her spring fabrics. She draped stuffs she liked
over her shoulder one after the other and went to look in the
mirror. Mter that she came over to Namiki and Yuichi and
asked : "How does it look?" The two offered not very useful
comments. They teased her by saying things like : "If you go out
of here with that red material over your shoulder, you'll drive
the bulls wild."
Kyoko looked over twenty fabrics, but she didn't like any and
left without buying a thing. They went to the second floor of the
Bankaro, a restaurant serving Peking specialities, and the three
ordered an early dinner. While they talked, Kyoko asked for the
plate in front of Yuichi : "Cousin Yuchan, would you be so kind
as to- ?" He could not help seeing the expression on Namiki's
face as she unexpectedly said these words.
That :flashily dressed youth twisted the corners of his mouth
slightly; a smile of mature cynicism passed over his dark face.
Then he looked from Kyoko to Yuichi and skillfully changed the
subject. He spoke about a football game concerning Yuichi's
college , when he had participated during his college days.
It was clear that he was aware of Kyoko's lie about Yuichi-or
Keichan-and had been aware of her ruse from the beginning.
Moreover, he had simply forgiven the two of them . Kyoko's ex­
pression at that time was something laughable. Not only that,
there was the tension in the words : "Cousin Yuchan, would you
be so kind as to . . . ? " It betrayed the fact that the slip had been
deliberate. The earnestness of her expression, so like that of a
woman scorned, was almost pitiful.
Nobody in this world loves Kyoko, Yuichi thought. Then the
cold heart of this youth who could not love women justified the
fact that no one loved this woman-justified also his own lack of
feeling for her as well as his desire to make her miserable. In
addition , he couldn't help regretting that she was already un­
happy without his help.
Mter dancing at the Cliffside Dance Hall by the harbor, they
took the same seats they had before and drove back on the

( I98 ]
 One's Heart's Desire

Keihin National Highway to Tokyo. Kyoko made another trite

remark. "Don't be angry about today. Mr. Namiki is really only a
friend."
Yuichi was silent. Kyoko was sad; she felt he still didn't be­
lieve her.

[ 1 99 ]
 CHAPTER 18

SIGHTSEER'S
Al i S F O R T U N E

YUICHI'S EXAMS were over. It was already spring by the

calendar. On an afternoon when the gusty wind sent the dust
dancing and the street seemed to be \'Vl'apped in yellow mist,
Yuichi dropped by at the Kaburagi home on the way home from
school, as Nobutaka had directed him to do the previous day.
To get to the Kaburagi home, he had to leave the train at a
station not far from the college. It was not really out of his way.
Today :Mrs. Kaburagi was to go to the office of an important
foreign "friend" to pick up some licensing documents required in
a new venture by her husband's corporation. It had been ar­
ranged that when she came home Yuichi, who would be waiting
there, would take them to her husband's office. The documents
were readily available thanks to the exertions of Mrs. Kaburagi.
Only the hour when she would pick them up was not clear, so
Yuichi had to wait until she arrived home.
When he got there, Mrs. Kaburagi was still home. Her ap­
pointment was for three p.m. It was still only one o'clock.
The Kaburagi home was in the steward's house of the old
family mansion, which had survived the fires. There were many
nobles of the highest rank who did not h ave a traditional man­
sion in Tokyo. The father of the present Kaburagi household had
made a fortune in electrical enterprises during the Meiji era. He
bought one of the lesser mansions of a daimyo and moved into
it, something quite exceptional. Mter the war, Nobutaka dis-

[ 200 ]
 Sightseer's Misfortune

posed of this in order to pay his estate tax. He evicted the man
who had succeeded to the steward's house and settled him in a
rented dwelling. Then he planted a new hedge as a barrier
between himself and the alienated main house, and set up a gate
at the end of a little lane that turned off the street.
An inn was opened in the main house. The Kaburagis had to
get used to party music every once in a while. Through the gate
that Nobutaka long ago passed under when brought horne from
school by the family tutor-to whom he had entrusted the heavy
knapsack he had carried-now limousines passed, carrying
geisha from long distances away, circling the drive, depositing
their fair passengers at the impressive porch entrance. The
carvings that Nobutaka had made in the pillars of his study
room were gone. The map of Treasure Island that he had hidden
under one of the stones in the garden thirty years ago and for­
gotten had undoubtedly rotted away, though it had been drawn
in colored pencil on veneer.
The steward's house had seven rooms. Only the room above
the western entranceway was over eight mats in size. That west­
ern room served both as Nobutaka's den and guest room . From
the windows of the room , one could look squarely into what had
been the serving room in the second floor rear of the main house;
but that serving room had been made into a guest room, and a
blind installed in the windows facing Nobutaka's den.
One day while they were renovating the main house he
watched them tearing out the serving shelf. In the old days
when they held functions in the grand hall on the second floor,
the shining black serving shelf had seen much activity. Gold­
lacquered bowls stood in rows ; maids carne and went busily,
trailing kimonos. The sound of that shelf being destroyed carne
to him like the echoes of countless eventful banquets. It was a
sound of some deeply buried memory being uprooted.
Nobutaka, who had not so much as an atom of sentimentality,
slid down in his chair, put his feet on the desk, and cheered :
"Rip it apart ! And again!" Every inch of that mansion had tor­
tured him in his youth. Upon the secret that he loved men that
moral mansion always rested with an unbearable weight. He did
not know how many times he had wished for the death of his
father and mother and the destruction of the house by fire, but it
now struck Nobutaka's fancy to see the mansion undergo the

[ 20I ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

blasphemous alteration of having drunken geisha sing popular

songs in the hall in which his father used to sit with a glum look,
rather than have it burned in an air raid.
After they moved into the steward's house, the couple reno­
vated the whole house in Western style. In the alcove they put up
bookcases ; they took out the sliding partitions and hung thick
damask curtains . They moved all the Western furnishings out of
the main house and placed the rococo chairs and tables on rugs
spread over the tatami floors. With these changes, the Kaburagi
home came to look like a consulate in the Edo era or the apart­
ment of a foreigner's concubine.
When Yuichi arrived, Mrs. Kaburagi was wearing slacks and a
lemon-colored sweater, over which she had draped a black car­
digan. She was sitting beside the stove in the sitting room, which
was raised a few steps. With her red-nailed fingertips she cut a
deck of Viennese cards. The queen bore the letter D; the jack, B.
The maidservant announced Yuichi's arrival. Mrs. Kaburagi's
fingers went numb; the cards stuck together as if they had paste
between them. Lately she was not able to stand up to greet
Yuichi when he came. When he came in she would turn her back.
When he went around and stood in front of her, she would
finally have the strength to lift her eyes. Yuichi would meet her
unwilling, sleepily raised eyes. The youth always had to hold
himself back from asking if she was ill.
"My appointment is for three o'clock. There's still plenty of
time. Have you eaten ? " she asked. Yuichi said he had.
There was a short silence. The glassed door to the veranda
rattled annoyingly in the wind. The dust accumulated on all the
mullions was visible from within. Even the sunlight streaking
across the veranda seemed dust-laden.
"I hate to go out on a day like this. When I get back I know
I'll have to wash my hair." She suddenly ran her fingers through
Yuichi's hair.
"My, that dust ! That's what you get for putting on too much
pomade."
The fault-finding that entered into her words as she said this
confused Yuichi. Every time she looked at Yuichi she wanted to
flee ; she felt almost no joy in meeting him. She could not imag­
ine what it was that kept them apart, what it was that kept them
from coming together. Chastity? Don't make me laugh ! The

[ 202 ]
 Sightseer's Misfortune

lady's purity ? Make room between the jokes to allow for laugh­
ter! Then Yuichi's purity? He already had a wife.
No matter how hard she tried, with all her womanly faculties,
Mrs. Kaburagi could not come to grips with the cruel truths in
the situation. She certainly did not love Yuichi so completely
because he was beautiful. It was because he did not love her,
nothing more.
Men whom Mrs. Kaburagi had gotten rid of within a week
had at least loved her with body or soul, if not both. With all
their various and sundry endowments, they were alike in at least
this respect. But in Yuichi, this lover in the abstract, she could
not find anywhere a quality she had seen before. She could do
nothing but grope in the dark. When she thought she had cor­
nered him, he turned out to be over there ; when she thought she
was far away, he was close. She was like one tracking down
echoes, like one trying to take in hand the image of the moon
reflected in the water.
It was not that there never were times when circumstances
conspired suddenly to make her think Yuichi loved her. There
were times when, her heart filled with happiness, she knew well
that what she was looking for was not happiness, or anything
like it.
Even the horrendous farce of that night in the Rakuyo Hotel
was rather easier for her to explain by the theory that Yuichi had
taken part at Shunsuke's instigation than the theory that, as he
explained it, Shunsuke had done it all out of jealousy. Her heart,
intimidated by happiness, began to lean toward loving only evil
portents. Whenever she met Yuichi, she prayed that his eyes
would reflect loathing, hatred, or superiority; but instead she
was cast down to see in those eyes a clarity that knew no
cloud.
Pregnant with dust, the wind deposited its burdens on the
strange little garden consisting only of rocks and pines and
cycads, and rattled the glass door. Mrs. Kaburagi looked fixedly
through the vibrating glass, her eyes feverish.
"The sky is yellow, isn't it?" said Yuichi.
"I can't stand the wind in early spring," she said, her voice a
little high . "Nothing is clear."
The desserts she had prepared for Yuichi were brought in by
the maid. It helped her somewhat to watch Yuichi's childlike

[ 2 03 J
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

consumption of the hot plum pudding. The familiarity of that

young little bird eating the bait from her hand l The joyful pain
of h aving that hard little bill peck her palmi How good it
would be if what he was eating like that were the flesh of her
thigh !
"Delicious," Yuichi said. He knew that open guilelessness
helped his charm. To ingratiate himself with her, he took up
both her h ands and started to kiss them, an act that could only
be interpreted as an expression of gratitude for the dessert.
She crinkled her eyes; she made a terrible face ; her body
stiffened and trembled. She said : "No. No. It hurts me. No."
If the Mrs. Kaburagi of a decade earlier had seen the kind of
game she was now playing, surely she would h ave laughed her
h abitual dry, high-pitched laugh. She had never dreamed that
just one kiss could provide so much nourishment for emotion,
that it could be :fille d with such deadly poison, that she could
wish almost instinctively to avoid it. To make matters worse, this
cold lover was observing the earnest expression on the face of
this impure woman desperately fighting off a casual kiss as if he
were watching through a glass barrier the ridiculously agonized
expressions of a woman drowning in a tank.
Yuichi was not, however, displeased to see before him such
clear evidence of his power. He was rather jealous of the
drunken fear the woman was experiencing. This Narcissus was
unhappy that Mrs. Kaburagi, unlike her clever husband, would
not allow him to intoxicate himself with his own beauty.
"Why," Yuichi fidgeted, "why won't she let me lose myself as I
would like to? Is she going to leave me in this cloying loneliness
forever?"
Mrs. Kaburagi moved to a distant chair and closed her eyes.
The front of her lemon-colored sweater rolled in waves. The con­
tinuous rattling of the glass door seemed to shrivel the skin of
her temples. Yuichi felt she h ad suddenly aged by three or four
years.
In this dreamlike state, Mrs. Kaburagi did not know how she
was going to get through this short tryst of one hour. Something
had to happen. A great earthquake· or explosion , some catastro­
phe had to come and blow them both to smithereens. If not that,
during this painful assignation she would welcome h aving her
body turned to stone by slow, ineluctable torture.
Suddenly Yuichi cocked his head to one side. He had the

[ 2 0 4 ']
 Sightseer's Misfortune

expression of a young animal concentrating on a distant

sound.
"What's wrong? " Mrs. Kaburagi said. Yuichi did not answer.
"What do you hear?''
"Wait a minute. I just thought I heard something."
"Aren't you awful l You're just doing that because you're
bored."
"There, I heard it again. It's a fire-engine siren. Things will
burn well today."
"You're right-they sound as if they're coming down the road
by the gate. I wonder where."
The two looked at the sky. All they saw was the second story
of the main house, now an inn, towering on the other side of the
hedge of the little garden.
The siren approached with a clamor. In the wind the sound of
the wildly beaten alarm bell rose a·nd suddenly retreated. Again
there was only the rattling of the glass door.
:Mrs. Kaburagi got up to change her clothes. Yuichi idly went
to the stove that was only faintly wann and stirre d the coals with
a poker. It sounded as if he were stirring bones. The coal was all
but consumed.
Yuichi opened the door. He bathed his face in the wind.
My, this is good, he thought. This wind doesn't give you any
time to think.
Mrs. Kaburagi appeared ; she had taken off her slacks and put
on a skirt. In the dimness of the hall only the freshness of her
lipstick was visible. She saw Yuichi sticking his head out into the
wind but said nothing. Her last-minute primping, her way of
holding up her spring coat in one hand and of signaling simply
that she was going out, made her look as if she had lived with
this youth for a year. This phony wifely affectation seemed to
Yuichi to be an insinuation of some kind.
He walked as far as the gate with her. There was another little
garden gate along the path that led from the entranceway to the
street outside. On either side stood a hedge the height of a man.
The hedge was covered with dust. Its greenness had no strength.
On the other side of the garden gate, the sound of Mrs.
Kaburagi's high-heeled shoes along the paving stones halted.
Yuichi, wearing a pair of the sandals that were kept in the en­
tranceway, followed her, but was stopped by the closed gate.
Thinking she was playfully holding it closed, he pushed against

[ 20J ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

it. She resolutely pressed the bodice of her lemon sweater

against the woven bamboo in the gate and held it closed with all
her strength. There was a hostile earnestness in her effort. The
youth drew back.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"It's all right. This is far enough. If you come with me any
farther, I won't be able to go."
She walked parallel to the hedge and stood on the other side.
The hedge hid the lower half of her from sight. Her hair-she
wore no hat-waved in the wind, clung to the edges of the
leaves of the tight-clipped hedge. She wore a gorgeous watch
that looked like a little gold snake around her wrist. Her white
hand moved and loosened it.
Yuichi stood in front of Mrs. Kaburagi with the hedge be­
tween them. He was taller than she. He placed his arms lightly
on the top of the hedge, then bent his face toward it and looked
at her. His face was hidden except for his eyes. The wind again
came down the dusty little path. It mussed Mrs. Kaburagi's hair
and blew it around her face. Yuichi lowered his head to shield
his eyes.
This is the way it is, Mrs . Kaburagi thought. Even in this short
period when our eyes try to meet, something comes between us.
The wind let up. The two searched each other's eyes. Mrs.
Kaburagi no longer knew what emotion she wished to read in
Yuichi's eyes. I love something I do not understand in the slight­
est, something dark, she thought-clear, limpid darkness. As for
Yuichi, he was uneasy to think that everything he couldn't
fathom hung on the slight emotional displays of such moments,
that other people would not stop finding in him something that
went beyond what his consciousness was able to detect. That
truth revolved again and enriched his consciousness-it was
almost as if he were thinking about someone else.
Finally, Mrs. Kaburagi burst out laughing. It was a forced
laugh, a laugh of parting.
This separation, even if it ended with her return in two hours ,
was like a rehearsal for a complete break, Yuichi thought. He
was reminded of the many solemn rehearsals for military inspec­
tions and graduation ceremonies in his middle school days. The
representative of the class would carry an empty lacquered tray
-containing no diploma-and back away respectfully from the
principal's chair.

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 Sightseer's Misfortune

Mter Mrs. Kaburagi left, he went back to the vicinity of the

stove and picked up an American fashion magazine. Presently a
telephone call carne from Nobutaka. Yuichi told him his wife
had departed. Nobutaka decided to give the conversation a per­
sonal turn; he broke into his ridiculous cat-petting tone : "Who
was the young man I saw you walking with in the Ginza the
other day?" He always asked wheedling questions like this on
the phone. Yuichi would sulk if he put them to his face.
Yuichi answered : "It was just a friend. He asked me to come
with him to look at some suit materials, so I did.''
"Do you walk with 'just friends' with your pinkies hooked
together?"
"You don't seem to have any business to talk about. I'm hang­
ing up."
"Wait a minute. Yuchan, I shouldn't have said that. When I
heard your voice, I couldn't resist. I'm coming to see you right
now by car. Don't go anywhere until I get there. Well? Answer
me.''
"All right. I'm waiting-Mr. Chairman.''
Nobutaka arrived thirty minutes later.
In the car, Nobutaka realized that in all he could remember of
Yuichi in the past several months there was never a false note.
Whatever the luxury or the splendor, he met it all without sur­
prise. What is more, he never seemed to be guilty of the flimsy
expedient of deliberately warning himself not to be surprised.
He wanted nothing, and so one wished to give him all, but one
never found he was any the more affectionate in his gratitude.
Even if one took him among nobles and monks, the hoi-polloi,
the good breeding of this beautiful youth and his complete free­
dom from pretense made people take him at the highest value.
In addition to all that, he was spiritually cruel. This was the
reason Nobutaka's dreams were built to a height greatly beyond
necessity.
Nobutaka was a master of concealment. He had succeeded in
seeing his wife every day without ever being caught red-handed.
He gave himself up to the joy of savoring his own slyness. But he
was becoming extremely deficient in prudence.
Without so much as removing his overcoat, Nobutaka pro­
ceeded up to his wife's sitting room, where Yuichi waited. The
maid saw that he had not taken off his coat; she stood behind
him in confusion, wondering what she was supposed to do. "And

[ 2 07 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

what are you gawking at?" he said testily.

"Your coat, sir," she said hesitantly.
He tore the coat off and flung it into her anns. Then he said to
her loudly: "Go down there, and if I want anything I'll call."
He tapped the youth's elbow, led him to the concealment of
the curtains and kissed him. Whenever he came in contact with
the roundness of Yuichi's lower lip, he went mad. The gold
buttons on the chest of Yuichi's unifonn collided with Nobu­
taka's tie clasp with a sound like gnashing teeth.
"Let's go upstairs," said Nobutaka.
Yuichi pulled away, looked him in the face and giggled : "My,
you do like it, don't you?"
Five minutes later, the two of them were in Nobutaka's den,
"conferring."
It must be said it was no accident that Mrs. Kaburagi got
home earlier than planned. In her hurry to get back to Yuichi,
she looked for a cab and found one right away. When she got to
the office her business was rapidly transacted. Then, too, that
"friendly" foreigner offered to drive her home. His car sped.
When he dropped her off at their gate, she invited him in, but
the foreigner was pressed for time, and promising to come an­
other time, drove off.
Moved by a sudden impulse-not at all an extraordinary thing
with her-she entered from the garden and ascended to the
sitting room from the veranda. She thought she would surprise
Yuichi, who should have been there.
The maid met her and told her that the count and Yuichi were
h aving a conference in the second-floor den. She decided that
she would like to see Yuichi taking part in a serious conference.
She wanted to see Yuichi involved in something while unaware
that she was looking.
Out of a surplus of love, she wished to peep for a moment at
the beloved image of Yuichi in a situation without her, her par­
ticipation suppressed-to see in the eternal fonn his image as­
sumed when she was not there the vision of happiness her ap­
pearance for one moment would have destroyed.
Keeping the sound of her footsteps quiet, she ascended the
staircase and stood by her husband's den. The door had been
closed, but the latch had not hooked. So there was a crack of an
inch or two in the door. She stood against the door and peered
into the room.

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 Sightseer's Misfortune

Thus Mrs. Kaburagi saw what she was bound to see.

When Nobutaka and Yuichi carne down, Mrs. Kaburagi was
nowhere to be found. The documents had been placed on the
table. An ash tray served as a paperweight. In the ash tray a
cigarette, barely smoked, lipstick clinging to it, had been
stumped out. The maid said only that her mistress had come
borne and seemed to have gone out after a short time.
The two awaited her return, but when she did not arrive, they
went to town to h ave a good time. Yuichi got horne about ten
o'clock.
Three days went by. Mrs. Kaburagi had still not returned.

[ 2 09 ]
 CHAPTER 19

MY H E L P M A T E

YUICHI WAS EMBARRASSED about visiting the Kaburagi

home. Nobutaka had to call and leave word many times before
he finally complied one evening.
When, some days earlier, Nobutaka Kaburagi and Yuichi had
come downstairs and failed to find Mrs. Kaburagi, Nobutaka
was not greatly concerned. When a day passed and she had not
returned, he began to worry. This was no ordinary absence.
There was no doubt that she was concealing her whereabouts.
What was more, there could be only one reason why she had
disappeared.
On this evening the Nobutaka whom Yuichi saw was a differ­
ent person. He was haggard ; he needed a shave-a state Yuichi
had never seen him in before. The cheeks that always had such
good color were baggy and had lost their glow.
"Hasn't she come back yet?" Yuichi said. He sat down on the
arm of the sofa in the den and tapped the end of a cigarette
against the back of his hand.
"That's the way it looks. We were seen."
This laughable solemnity was so unlike the usual Nobutaka
that Yuichi agreed with him purely out of cruelty : "I suppose so."
"That's the way it looks. I can't think of anything else."
Actually, Yuichi had noticed that the latch was not in place,
and had realized immediately what might have happened. His
extreme embarrassment had come to be diluted after a few days
by a sense of liberation. At the same time he fell into the coldly
heroic state of feeling neither embarrassment for himself nor
sympathy for Mrs . Kaburagi.

[ 2 10 ]
 My Helpmate

This was why Nobutaka seemed ridiculous in Yuichi's eyes.

He suffered pain and lost weight only because he had been
"seen."
"Have you notified the Missing Persons Bureau ?"
"I don't like to do that. It isn't that I don't have some idea."
Yuichi observed that Nobutaka's eyes were misty, and he mar-
veled. Then Nobutaka said : "I hope she hasn't done anything
regrettable."
These words, incongruously sentimental as they were , pierced
Yuichi's heart. There had never been one word to indicate so
clearly the spiritual harmony between this strange couple. Only
a heart forced to feel tremendous understanding of the love that
his wife felt for Yuichi would be capable of such minute powers
of the imagination. That same heart would have been wounded
in the same degree by his wife's spiritual unchastity. In the
consciousness that none other than his own wife was in love with
the person he himself loved, Nobutaka became a cuckold twice
over; what is more , he tasted the pain of using his wife's passion
to whip up his own. The wounds of this heart Yuichi now saw
for the first time.
This is how necessary Mrs. Kaburagi has been to Count
Kaburagi, Yuichi thought. Perhaps it was beyond the youth's
powers of understanding. However, through these considera­
tions, Yuichi momentarily arrived for the first time at a su­
premely tender feeling toward Nobutaka. Did the count see this
ever so tender look in the eyes of the one he loved?
Nobutaka looked down. He was worn out, his confidence
gone ; his corpulent body, in a flashy dressing gown, was
slumped in a chair. He held his downturned cheeks in both
hands. His hair, generously oiled and too abundant for his years,
made the baggy skin of his unshaven face seem grimy. He
avoided the youth's gaze. Yuichi, however, studied the wrinkles
across his neck. S11ddenly he remembered the faces of the fel­
lows he had seen in the streetcar that first night in the park.
From that moment of gentleness, Yuichi returned to a more
appropriate cruel coldness. I shall become more and more cruel
to this man. That's what must happen, he thought.
The count forgot the existence of the cold lover in front of
him. He thought earnestly of the missing helpmate he could not
forget and of the long years they had lived together and sinned
together, and he wept. Left behind as they were , he and Yuichi

[ 2I I ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

shared the same sense of isolation. They were like two castaways
on a raft; for many minutes they exchanged not a word.
Yuichi whistled. Nobutaka lifted his head, like a dog that has
been called. But he saw only the teasing smile of a youth.
Yuichi poured cognac into a glass. Holding the glass, he went
to the window, opened the curtain. There was a banquet going
on, with many guests, at the main house this evening. The light
from the great hall showered down on the evergreen trees and
on kobushi flowers in the inn garden. The sound of singing, so
out of place in this residential quarter, was faintly audible. It
was a very warm evening. The wind had died down ; the sky had
cleared. Yuichi felt an inexplicable freedom throughout his body
-a freedom like that of the traveler who in his wanderings at
last feels refreshed in body and soul, his breathing easier than
ever before. He felt the wish to drink a toast to this freedom :
"To disorder, banzai !"

The youth blamed his lack of concern over Mrs. Kaburagi's

disappearance on the coldness of his disposition, but this was not
necessarily true. Perhaps something intuitive helped him to
rationalize his uneasiness.
Mrs. Kaburagi's Karasuma family also had noble antecedents.
When, about the fourteenth century, Nobui Kaburagi was con­
nected with the Northern court, Tadachika Karasuma was con­
nected with the Southern court. Nobui handled tactics and in­
trigue as superlatively as a magician; Tadachika had a flair for
politics, which he handled passionately with an air of simple­
minded magnanimity. The two families represented more or less
the yang and yin of statecraft. Nobui was the true heir of the
politics of the Monarchic Age, an adherent of political esthetics
in the worst sense of the term. In that time when tanka poetry
and politics were closely intertwined he moved into the realm of
statecraft all the defects of the lovers of art, all esthetic subtle­
ties, pragmatism, the doctrine of passionless calculation, the
mystique of weakness, deception through display, humbug,
moral insensitivity, and the like. Nobutaka Kaburagi's spiritual
refusal to fear degradation, his brave refusal to fear base ac­
tions, was chiefly the gift of this ancestor.
On the other hand, Tadachika Karasuma's ultilitarian idealism

[ 2 l 2 ]
 My Helpmate

was always troubled by self-contradiction. He perceived clearly

that only through passionately refusing to look at oneself directly
does one have power enough to realize oneself. His idealistic
political theory depended more on fooling himself than on fool­
ing others. Later on Tadachika committed suicide.
At this time, a relative of Nobutaka who was also his wife's
great-aunt, a noble, ancient lady, was the Superior of an old
nunnery in Shishigatani in Kyoto. This old lady's lineage con­
tained the historical point of fusion of the opposing Kaburagi
and Karasuma essences. The successive generations of her
Komatsu family were made up of a top-rank priest who stayed
out of politics, an author of a diary with literary value, an au­
thority on ancient court and military practices and usages-in
short, in every generation, men who took up positions as critics
and revisionists in opposition to new customs. Now, however,
after the death of this old Superior, her line would be no more.
Nobutaka Kaburagi, surmising that his wife had fled thither,
dispatched a telegram there on the day after her disappearance.
On the evening that Yuichi granted him a visit, there was s till no
answer to that telegram. The gist of the reply, wired two or
three days later, was as follows : "Your wife h as not come here.
However, since we have some idea about it, when we know
more we shall inform you." Such were the cryptic words.
About the same time, however, a bulky letter from Mrs. Ka­
buragi, bearing the return address of that nunnery, was deliv­
ered to Yuichi. He hefted the letter in his hand. It seemed to
whisper in its weigh t : "Here I am."
The letter said that the plain view of such a frightful scene
had weakened her hold on life. That scene, so disgusting to look
at, not only made her tremble with fear and humiliation, it also
made her feel that she had absolutely no power to intervene in
human affairs. She was already accu stomed to an unconven­
tional way of life. She had lightly skipped across its chasms, but
this time she had finally looked into one. Her legs were numb;
she could not walk. Mrs. Kaburagi was contemplating suicide.
She started off toward the suburbs of Kyoto, where it was still
early for cherry blossoms, and.. took a long walk alone. She en­
joyed seeing the grea:t bamboo groves rustling in the wind of the
early spring.
How vain, how vexatious, these bamboos in their greatness !
she thought. And then, what stillness I

[ 213 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

The greatest manifestation of her unhappiness lay in her con­

viction that if she was going to die, she should not think too
much about being dead. When people do this , they escape
death. For suicide, whether a lofty thing or lowly, is rather a
suicide of thought itself; in general a suicide in which the
subject does not think too much does not exist.
If it happened that she couldn't die-her thoughts took the
opposite tack-it would be because the very thing that once
drove her to death was now coming to look like the only thing
that would keep her alive. What charmed her now much more
fiercely than Yuichi's beauty was the ugliness of his action. As a
result she had calmly reached the view that there was no greater
meeting of minds than in the absolute, incontrovertible humilia­
tion that lay in the identity of their feelings when she saw him
and he was seen by her.
Was the ugliness of that action his weak point? No. One must
not think that a woman like Mrs. Kaburagi loved weakness. It
was nothing more than the most extreme challenge to her sensi­
bilities that his power could exert upon her. Thus she did not
realize that what at first seemed a matter for her sentiments was,
after various stern ordeals, becoming a problem of her will.
There is not so much as a scintilla of gentleness in my love, she
reflected, incongruously. As her steeled sensibilities saw him, the
more monstrous Yuichi seemed, the more reason she had to love
him .
When he read the next passage, Yuichi smiled a bitter smile.
How naive I While making me out to be beautiful, and she with
her heart pure, now she tries to compete with me at being dirty,
he thought to hi..
-nself.
Nowhere so much as in this interminable, whorish confession
had Mrs. Kaburagi's passion ever come so close to being mjlter­
nal. In trying to equal Yuichi's sins, Mrs. Kaburagi l aid bare all
of her own sins. In order to mount to the height of Yuichi's
immorality, she laboriously piled up her own immorality. She
produced evidence to show that she and he were blood relatives.
She was like a mother gladly taking guilt on herself in order to
protect her son. She laid her own misconduct bare. In her dis­
regard of the effect her confession would have on the youth,
moreover, she practically attained the egoism of m aternity. Did
she divine that this resolute baring of her soul, by rendering her
completely unlovable, would provide the only means by which

( 2 I 4 ]
 My Helpmate

she could be loved? Frequently a mother-in-law is driven to be

cruel to her daughter-in-law by a certain frantic impulse to make
herself less lovable in the eyes of a son who already does not
love her.
Before the war Mrs. Kaburagi was only another commonplace
lady of the nobility, a little promiscuous, but far purer than
people thought. When her husband met Jackie and immersed
himself quietly in the affairs of that street, and began neglecting
his functions as a husband, she accepted a state of affairs that
seemed not at all different from that of the normal couple. The
war rescued them from boredom. They could take pride in the
fact that they had had no children to bind them hand and
foot.
It became clear at this time that her husband not only recog­
nized her waywardness but indeed incited it. Nevertheless, she
found no joy in the two or three casual affairs she experienced.
She tasted no new emotion. She came to consider herself as
indifferent, and as she did so her husband's insupportable atti­
tude toward her became a source of annoyance. He interrogated
her about it, point by point, and realized that the indifference he
had nurtured in her over a long period of time was not wavering
ever so slightly, and he rejoiced. There was no certificate of
chastity like this stony indifference.
At that time there was always a group of silly admirers around
her. There were middle-aged gentlemen, businessmen types,
artist types, younger-generation types-how ridiculous that
phrase sounds !-like the types of women in a whorehouse. They
were representative of the idle life at the height of the war, a life
that knew no tomorrow.
One day in summer a telegram came to the Shiga Heights
Hotel, bringing one of her coterie his draft call. On the night
before he departed, Mrs. Kaburagi yielded this youth something
she had not yielded to the others. Not because she loved him. At
this time she knew this young man needed not a particular
woman but an unknown woman, woman in general. She had the
confidence to play the part of that woman. In that respect she
differed from ordinary women.
The youth had to leave in the morning, on the first bus. They
rose in the dawn. The youth was amazed at the sight of this
woman busily packing his bags. I've never seen her act so much
like a housewife, he thought. In one night, that's how I changed

[ 2 1) J
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

her. That's the feeling you get from conquest.

One should not take too seriously a man's feelings on the day
he is being inducted. Beguiled by sentimentality and pathos,
confident that whatever he did would be dismissed as harmless,
he felt that any stupidity would be forgiven him . Youths who
find themselves in this position are more complacent than
middle-aged men.
Room service came in with the coffee. Mrs. Kaburagi averted
her gaze when she saw the utterly prodigal tip the young man
gave.
Then the youth said to her, "Oh, I forgot, ma'am, to ask for a
picture."
"What picture?"
"Yours, dear."
"Why?"
"To take to the front with me."
Mrs. Kaburagi burst out laughing, in laughter that knew no
control. While she laughed, she opened the french doors. The
dawn fog whirled into the room.
The soldier-to-be turned up the collar of his pajamas and
sneezed.
"It's cold. Close the door."
The tone of command in which he concealed his resentment
upset Mrs. Kaburagi. "Well, if that makes you cold-soldiers
never have it that good !" she said. She made him put on his
clothes and rushed him to the door. He didn't get the picture. In
fact, the tearful youth didn't even get the good-bye kiss he
requested from this so suddenly ill-tempered lady.
"Well, I can write you, c an't I?" the youth, nervous about
the other well-wishers, whispered in her ear as they were about
to part. She smiled in silence.
When the bus melted away into the fog, Mrs. Kaburagi, her
shoes soaked through, followed a little path to the boat dock of
Maruike Pond. One rotted boat was half-filled with water.
There was about this place, too, the lonely neglect of a summer
resort in wartime. In the fog, the reeds looked like the ghosts of
reeds. In one place the fog, lighted faintly by the rays of morn­
ing, seemed to be a reflection of the surface of the water floating
in the air.
To give one's body when one does not love, Mrs. Kaburagi
thought, picking at the hair that had become twisted at her

[ 2 l 6 ]
 My Helpmate

temples as she slept. What comes so easy to a man, why is it so

difficult for a woman? Why is it only prostitutes are permitted to
Imow about it?
Oddly, she realized now that the vexation and the laughing
disdain that had suddenly welled up in her for that young man
were caused by his extravagant tip to the waitress. I gave my
body-free. I had a little spirit left; I had my pride, she rational­
ized. If he had paid for my body with that money, I would cer­
tainly have been able to see him off with a freer spirit. Just like a
whore at the front lines, I would have thrown open my body and
my soul to a man's last desires, with a free spirit, fille d with
conviction.
She heard a faint sound at her ear. The mosquitoes that had
been resting their wings at the tips of the reeds through the
night buzzed by her'head. There was something strange about
the existence of mosquitoes here on the plateau. They were,
however, light blue and delicate-seeming; it was hard to believe
they would suck one's blood. Soon a cloud of mosquitoes
ascended softly into the morning fog. Mrs. Kaburagi realized
that her white sandals were half-filled with water.
In that time by the lakeside, the thoughts that :Bickered
through her mind clung to her wartime existence. To be forced
to think that a simple gift was mutual love was surely to commit
an inevitable sacrilege against the pure act of giving. Every time
she committed that offense she tasted the humiliation of it. War
was a blighted gift. War was one blood-smeared sentimentality,
a. squandering of love-in short, a squandering of watch­
words.
From the bottom of her heart, she paid the whole noisy busi­
ness a laugh of ridicule. Her flashy dress showed no concern for
what people thought. Her character degenerated ever further.
She went so far as to be seen kissing a blacklisted foreigner in
the hallway of the Imperial Hotel, was questioned by the Mili­
tary Police, and ended by getting her name in the newspapers.
Anonymous letters never stopped coming to the Kaburagi family
mailbox. The bulk of them were threats. Some called the
countess a traitor; one of them, for instance, politely suggested
that she commit suicide.
Count Kaburagi's guilt was not heavy. He was only a laggard.
The time when Jackie was interrogated on suspicion of espion­
age was many times more upsetting to the count than the occa-

[ 217 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

sion of his wife's investigation, but even this affair ended without
any real ill effect on him. When he heard just a rumor of air
raids, he fled with his wife to Karuizawa. There he made connec­
tions with an old admirer of his father's, now the commander of
the Nagano District Defense Forces, who was so good as to
deliver them once each month an abundance of army rations.
When the war ended, the count looked forward to limitless
freedom. Moral disorder, to be inhaled easily as morning air! He
was drunk with indiscipline. Now, however, economic troubles
and the tightness of money stole the freedom from his hands.
During the war Nobutaka had been elevated for no good
reason to the chairmanship of the Federation of Marine Products
Industries Associations. As one of the perquisites of his office he
set up a small company selling bags made of moray leather,
which fell outside the leather controls of the time. That was the
Far East Marine Products Corporation. The moray has an eel's
body with no scales, and is yellowish brown in color with hori­
zontal stripes. These strange fish, which grow to five feet in
length, live among the reefs of nearby waters. When men come
near them they stare with lanquid eyes and open wide their
jaws, lined with sharp teeth. Guided by members of the Asso­
ciation, Nobutaka went one day to visit the seaside caves where
the moray live in great numbers. For a long time he watched
them from a little boat rocking in the waves. One of the crea­
tures, slithering among the rocks, opened his mouth wide and
menacingly at the count. This strange fish caught Nobutaka's
fancy.
After the war, controls were suddenly lifted. Far East Marine
Products business declined. The company altered its articles of
incorporation and diversified to Hokkaido kelp, herring, Sanriku
abalone, and other marine products. At the same time, it special­
ized in products that were used as Chinese foodstuffs and sold
them to Chinese merchants in Japan as well as to smugglers in
the China trade. Then assessment of the estate tax forced the
sale of the Kaburagi mansion. Far East Marine Products, too,
was low on funds.
At this time, a man named Nozaki, who said that Nobutaka's
father had helped him long ago, appeared from nowhere and
advanced him funds. Except that he was a former follower of
Michiru Toyama in China and that Nobutaka's father had put
him up in his home during his student days, this man's lineage

( 2I8 ]
 My Helpmate

and history were obscure. Some said that while the Chinese Revo­
lution was going on, this man had gathered some former Japa­
nese artillerymen and plunged into the revolution. He contracted
for a certain amount per direct hit. Others said that after the war
he loaded false-bottom suitcases with opium, smuggled them
into Shanghai, and sold them through his followers.
Nozaki appointed himself president. Nobutaka was installed
as chairman of the board, and was given I oo,ooo yen a month to
keep far away from the management of the business. From that
time Far East Marine Products assumed a vague, amorphous
character. Then Nobutaka took lessons from Nozaki in buying
up dollars. Nozaki entered into agreements with the Army of
Occupation on behalf of heating companies and packing com­
panies. He lined his own purse with the commissions. Some­
times, in order to cheat on the bid price, he played two clients
against each other, all the while skillfully making use of the
organization of Far East Marine Products and the name of
Nobutaka. At one time, when the families of the Army of Occu­
pation were departing in great numbers, Nozaki's efforts to se­
cure a contract in favor of a certain packing company were
balked by the veto of the colonel in authority. He decided to fall
back on the social talents of the Kaburagis and invited the colo­
nel and his wife to dinner. Nozaki and the Kaburagis went to
meet them. The colonel's wife was ill and did not appear.
It was on the next day that Nozaki visited the Kaburagi horne
on what he said was a private matter and asked for Mrs. Ka­
buragi's help. She told him she needed till the next day to make
up her mind. "After I speak to my husband, I'll give you our
answer," she said. The thunderstruck Nozaki leaped to a com­
mon-sense interpretation. The forwardness of his request had
angered her. Still, she smiled.
"Don't give me that kind of answer. If it's no, say no. If you're
angry, I apologize. Let's forget the whole thing."
''I'll talk to my husband. Our house is different from others,
you see. My husband will say yes, I'm certain."
"Ha l"
"Just leave it to me. Of course, instead," Mrs. Kaburagi said in
a businesslike and thus disrespectful tone, "-instead of that, if I
throw in with you, and the contract is signed, how about giving
me twenty per cent of the commission you get?"
Nozaki's eyes became round. He looked at her with confi-

[ 2 19 ]
 FORBIDDEN C OLORS

dence. Then, in Tokyo dialect that lacked a certain nuance and

showed that the speaker had worked long elsewhere he said :
"Right; you're on."
That evening, in a tone she might have used while reading
from a primer, Mrs. Kaburagi straightforwardly reported to
Nobutaka that day's business discussion. He listened with eyes
half closed. Then he glanced at his wife and mumbled some­
thing. This inscrutable pusillanimity on his part angered her. He
looked delightedly at his wife's provoked face and said : "Are you
getting angry because I'm not stopping you? "
"What are you talking about now?"
Mrs. Kaburagi knew very well that her husband would not
interfere with her plan. And it was not true that she hoped
somewhere in her heart that he would be upset with what she
was doing and oppose it. The reason she was angry was only her
husband's abject supineness.
Whether he stood in her way or did not stand in her way
amounted to the same thing. Her own mind was made up. It
was just that at this time she wished, with a humility that sur­
prised her, to confirm the strange tie that kept her from breaking
away from a husband in name only, the indefinable tie she felt
inside herself. Nobutaka, who had trained himself to affect an
indolent sensibility when he was in front of his wife, had over­
looked this quite noble feature of hers. Never to believe in
misery-in that characteristic nobility lies.
Nobutaka Kaburagi was frightened. His wife reminded him of
an explosive about to go off. He took the trouble to stand up and
put his hand on her shoulders.
"I apologize. Do as you wish. It's all right."
From that time, Mrs. Kaburagi despised him.
Two days later she drove to Hakone with the colonel. The
contract was sealed.
Perhaps because she h ad been caught in a trap unconsciously
set by Nobutaka, contempt somehow set Mrs. Kaburagi up as
her husband's partner in crime. The two would now always work
hand in glove. In order to catch unsuspecting pigeons they set
the snares of their blackmail arrangement. Shunsuke Hinoki was
one of their victims.
Men in high places in the Army of Occupation who had deal­
ings with Nozaki one by one became Mrs. Kaburagi's lovers.

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 My Helpmate

Replacements carne from time to time. New faces were taken in

quickly. Nozaki carne to respect her more and more . . . .
"Since I met thee, however," Mrs. Kaburagi wrote, "my world
has changed completely. I thought my muscles were entirely
voluntary, but I seem to have the involuntary ones everyone else
does. Thou wert a wall-to barbarian annies a fortress thou­
sands of miles long. Thou wert a lover who would never love
me. For that reason, I adored thee; I still adore thee as then.
"When I say this, I should say that besides thee I had another
Great Wall-Kaburagi. When I saw that, I understood for the
first time. That is certainly why I have not been able to leave
him until now. But Kaburagi is different from thee. He is not
beautiful.
"Since I met thee, I have given up all my mock harlotries.
That Nozaki and Kaburagi have coaxed and wheedled, striving
to get me to alter my decision, thou canst well imagine. Just the
same, until the other day, I got by without listening to them.
Since Kaburagi's value depended on me, Nozaki held up his
monthly salary. Kaburagi pleaded with me. At last I gave in,
vowing that this would be the last time, and I played the harlot
again. If I say that I was a prophet, thou wilt laugh, I suppose.
When I carne back with the document I had garnered on that
day, I happened to see that.
"I got together just a few jewels and left for Kyoto. I will sell
those jewels in order to live for the present, and will find myself
a respectable job. Fortunately, my great·aunt has told me I c an
stay here as long a s I like.
"Without me, perhaps Kaburagi will lose his job. No man can
live on the pittance he gets from that sewing school.
"For several nights in a row I have dreamed of thee. I would
really like to see thee. For the time being, though, I had better
not.
"I don't mean to say do this please or that please when thou
readest this letter. I won't say now go on loving Kaburagi, and I
won't say throw Kaburagi over and love me. I want thee to be
free ; thou must be free. How could I wish to make thee mine? It
would be like wishing to own the blue sky. The only thing I can
say is that I adore thee. If ever thou shouldst come to Kyoto, be
sure to come to Shishigatani. The temple is just north of the
tomb of the Emperor Reizei."

[ 22 1 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

Yuichi finished reading the letter. The mocking smile was

gone from the comer of his mouth. Quite unexpectedly, he was
moved.
He had received the letter when he came home at three in the
afternoon. Mter he read it, he reread the important passages.
The blood rose to his face. His hand shook involuntarily from
time to time.
First and foremost-and most unfortunately-he was moved
by his own sensitivity. He was moved by the realization of how
little volition there was in his feelings. His heart had jumped like
that of a sick man who has recovered from a serious illness : "I
am sensitive !"
He pressed his beautiful, burning face against the letter. In
this mad paroxysm, he found ecstasy. Drunker than if he had
drunk sake, he wa,s drunk on intoxication. At the same time he
began to feel that within him an emotion that he had not yet
discovered was forming. He was like a philosopher who, before
writing a treatise , happily smokes a cigarette; he took pleasure in
deliberately putting off the discovery of this emotion.
On his desk sat the clock left by his father, clutched by its
bronze lion. He strained to hear the interplay of his heartbeats
and the sound of the clockwork. He had an unfortunate habit
of looking at the clock whenever he encountered a new feeling.
He would wonder how long it would last, and no matter how
joyful a sensation it was, when it passed before five minu tes had
gone by, he would feel strangely relieved.
His eyes closed in terror. Mrs. Kaburagi's face hovered before
him. It was a truly clear vision , every line etched : the eyes, the
nose, the lips-every feature was distinct. Was he not still the
same Yuichi who, in the train with Yasuko on the way to their
honeymoon, had been so reluctant to sketch her face in his mind
as she sat by him? The clarity of his recollection was mostly
caused by the desire awakening within him. Mrs. Kaburagi's
face as he recalled it was truly beautiful. He felt as if he had
never in his life seen such a beautiful woman.
His eyes opened wide. The late afternoon sun was shining on
the camellia tree in full bloom in the garden. The blossoms of
the eightfold camellia gleamed. To that emotion that he had
deliberately discovered so late, Yuichi, in full control of his
senses, gave a n ame. As if thinking it was not enough, he whis­
pered it : "I love her. That at least is sure."

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 My Helpmate

Certain emotions tum false as soon as one articulates them,

Yuichi had learned from bitter experience. He was subjecting his
new emotion to the acid test.
"I love her. I can't believe that is not true. With all my power,
I cannot deny this emotion . I am in love with a woman."
He did not try to analyze his emotions. He was raptly confus­
ing imagination with desire, memory with hope. His joy had
gone mad. He was going to take his "penchant for analysis," his
"consciousness," his "fixed idea," his "destiny," his "innate under­
standing of truth," put them all together, curse them and bury
them. Of course, these are what we commonly refer to as the
symptoms of the disease of modernity.
Was it an accident that in the midst of this tempest of
emotions Yuichi should have remembered the name of Shun­
suke?
"That's it; I must see Mr. Hinoki right away. That old man is
just the person for me to confess the joy of my love to. Why?
Because if I make this confession to him so abruptly he will
sympathize with my joy, and at the same time the old fellow will
have the terrible revenge he has been plotting so diabolically."
He hurried into the hall to the telephone. On the way he met
Yasuko, coming from the kitchen.
"What's the hurry? You certainly look happy," she said.
"How can you tell?" said Yuichi in the best of spirits, with a
cruel magnanimity he had never displayed till now. He loved
Mrs . Kaburagi and did not love Yasuko l His emotions could not
possibly be more natural or more honest.
Shunsuke was at home. They agreed to meet at Rudon's.

He waited for the streetcar, hands in his coat pockets like a

cutpurse watching, awaiting his chance, kicking the stones,
stamping his feet. He whistled shrilly but cheerfully at a bicycle
rider who whizzed by.
The slow pace and the sideward motion of the old-fashioned
trolley was well suited to this visionary passenger. Yuichi leaned
by a window; thus he could look out at the rows of houses
darkening in early spring and dream.
He felt his imagination spinning swiftly, like a top. If a top
does not keep spinning, though , it will fall. And can one reach

[ 223 ]
 FORB IDDEN COLORS

out one's hand and whip u p its flagging revolutions a s it spins?

When the power that propelled it spent itself, that was the end,
was it not? Thus he had misgivings about h aving only one reason
for his joy.
Now that I think about it, I have loved Mrs. Kaburagi from
the beginning, surely, he thought. If so, why did I avoid her
there in the Rakuyo Hotel? That reflection was enough to send
cold shivers down his spine. Of course, fear, cowardice itself,
was to blame, Yuichi rationalized. He had fled from Mrs.
Kaburagi in the Rakuyo Hotel all because of cowardice.
Shunsuke had not yet arrived at Rudon's.
Yuichi had never waited for Shunsuke with such impatience.
Again and again he felt for the letter in his inside pocket. When
he touched it, it had the effect of a charm; he felt that when
Shunsuke arrived his passion would not have abated at all.
There was something majestic in the way in which Shunsuke
pushed open the door of Rudon's this evening; perhaps Yuichi's
impatience had something to do with it. He was wearing an
Inverness, over a kimono. Even that was a variation from the
flashiness he had been affecting recently. Yuichi was suprised to
see him exchange bows with boys at the tables here and there
before he took the chair beside him. There was not a boy among
those present this evening who had not been entertained by
Shunsuke.
"Well, it has been a long time." Shunsuke thrust out his hand
with youthful vigor. Yuichi kept himself in check, and Shunsuke
calmly started the conversation : "I hear Mrs. Kaburagi has left
horne."
"Then you know?"
"Kaburagi's been foaming at the mouth; he carne over, and we
had a heart-to-heart talk. He seems to consider me a mystic
finder of lost persons."
"Did Mr. Kaburagi-" Yuichi began, and then smiled a dis­
simulating smile. It was a smile of pure craft, like that of a boy
playing a practical joke; it ran counter to his chief concern. "Did
h e tell you the reason?"
"He was keeping mum ; he didn't say. But it must have been
because his wife saw you and him in a love scene."
"Exactly!" said Yuichi, dumfounded.
"As I look at things, that had to happen." In his self-satisfac­
tion, Shunsuke broke into a fit of coughing. Yuichi rubbed his

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 My Helpmate

back and did what he could to help him.

When the coughing stopped, Shunsuke turned his ruddy face
and brimming eyes toward Yuichi again and asked : "Well­
what's up ?"
Without a word, Yuichi handed him the letter.
Shunsuke put on his glasses and swiftly counted the sheets.
"Fifteen pages," he said, almost angrily. Then he settled himself
noisily in his chair as the Inverness and the kimono beneath it
rubbed against each other, and began to read.
Although it was not his own letter, Yuichi felt as if he sat
before a professor during the examination of his paper. He had
lost his confidence ; doubt gnawed at him. The sooner this period
of penance was over the better he would like it. Yuichi observed
that the passages that he had read with so much emotion
brought no change of expression in Shunsuke's face. Yuichi felt
more and more uneasy about the correctness of his feeling.
"A nice letter." Shunsuke took off his glasses and idly toyed
with them. "It is certainly true that women don't have any
brains, yet this is good evidence that at certain times and in
certain circumstances they h ave something that will serve in
place of brains. In short, spite."
"I didn't bring you here, sir, to hear your criticisms."
"I didn't criticize it ! I couldn't criticize anything so marvel­
ously contrived. Do you criticize a marvelous bald head? A
marvelous case of appendicitis? A marvelous Nerima radish?''
"But I was moved," the youth said, pleading.
"You were moved? That surprises me. When you write a New
Year's card you try to move the other fellow somewhat. If, how­
ever, by some error something has moved you, and that some­
thing was in a letter, that is in the worst form possible."
"You're wrong. I understood. I understood that I love Mrs.
Kaburagi."
Shunsuke began to laugh-a long sticky laugh from which he
didn't seem able to extricate himself. The men at the nearby
tables turned to watch as he struggled. He drank water, choked,
and went on laughing. The peals of laughter, it seemed, would
never stop coming.

[ 22 5 ]
 CHAPTER 20

C A L A i\l l T Y T O J A N E
I S C A L A i.U I TY T O J O H N

�·. --------
.

IN SHUNS UKE'S IDIOTIC LAUGHTER, there was no ridicule,

not even good humor, not the slightest hint of feeling. It was an
outright guffaw. It might be called the only act of which the old
novelist was now capable. It was different from a coughing
spasm or neuralgia; this explosive laughter was not forced.
Perhaps Yuichi, listening, considered him mad ; but Shunsuke
Hinoki felt that, thanks to this laughter, he now had within him
a sense of kinship with the world.
Laugh it off! Laugh and pass it by i Thus, for the first time, the
world stood before him. Jealousy and hatred, his traditional re­
sponses, even with the aid of Yuichi's vicarious anguish , had only
served to spur him on to create works of art. Such was the power
of this laugh that it held within it a kind of connection between
his existence and the world, an ability through which he could
see with his own eyes the blue sky on the other side of the
globe.
Long ago he had taken a trip to Kutsukake and encountered
an eruption of the Asama volcano. Late at night, the glass in the
windows rattled thinly and woke him from a light slumber into
which he had fallen , frazzled by work. A series of explosions was
occurring at thirty-second intervals. He got up and looked to­
ward the crater. There was no sound there to speak of. A faint
rumble came from the mountaintop, and after it a scarlet burst
of flame. It was like the ocean surf, Shunsuke thought. The
dancing spray of flame collapsed softly; but then half of it revivi-

[ 226 ]
 Calamity to Jane Is Calamity to John

:fied into a circle of fire , half of it played about in the sky in the
fonn of dark red smoke. It was like watching the last rays of
sunset.
This volcanic laughter in Rudon's had in it a faint, distant
rumbling. Shunsuke, however, felt that an emotion that carne to
him only rarely was hidden symbolically within his volcanic
laughter.
This emotional link, which had kept him going several times
during his humiliating youth, was a feeling of sympathy for the
world. It visited him only at rare instances late at night, as now,
or when he was about to descend from a high peak, alone in the
dawn. At such times he felt himself to be an artist. His soul
regarded the feeling as one of the extra emoluments of his office,
a comic respite that gave him faith in the irnrneasureable height
of his soul's station. It was an emotion as delicious as the taste of
fresh air. As mountain climbers are shocked by their own gigan­
tic shadows, so he was shocked by this gigantic emotion granted
him by his soul.
What could he have called this emotion? Shunsuke didn't call
it anything; he merely laughed. Certainly, respect was missing
from that laugh-even respect for himself.
So in those moments when his laughter tied him to the world,
that connecting bond of sympathy brought his heart close to the
supreme love, that superlatively perfidious thing we call love of
man.
At last Shunsuke stopped laughing. He took a handkerchief
from his pocket and wiped away his tears. His aged lower lids
folded in tear-soaked wrinkles.
"You felt ! You love !'' he said, exaggerating. "That's outright
nonsense ! This thing called feeling, like a beautiful wife, is
something that goes wrong easily. For that reason it can only ex­
cite men who don't amount to very much.
"Don't be angry, Yuchan. I didn't say you were a man who
didn't amount to much. It's just that, unfortunately, you have
been yearning for emotion. Into the utter purity of your heart
the thirst for emotion has happened to enter. It's simply a case of
illness. Just as boys who arrive at adolescence fall in love with
love, you were moved by being moved; that's all. When you're
recovered from this fixed idea, your emotion will vanish like the
mist, surely. You, too, must already know that-that outside of
sexual feeling there is no feeling. No matter what the notion or

[ 227 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

the conception, i f i t has nothing o f sex in it, i t cannot make man

feel. Men, moved by the secret elements of thought, like cox­
combs spread the word that they have been moved by thought
itself. It would be better if we stopped using vague words like
'emotion.'
"I know I'm being picky, but I'll try to analyze your testi­
mony. First, you testified, 'I felt.' Then you testified, 'I love l\1rs.
Kaburagi.' What do these two things have to do with each other?
Briefly, you know very well that there is no such thing as em�
tion that is unconnected with sexual attraction. So you immedi­
ately added the word 1ove' as a postscript. In doing so, you used
the word 'love' as a synonym for animal desire. Perhaps you have
no objection to that point. Mrs. Kaburagi's gone off to Kyoto. As
far as animal passion is concerned you can be completely at ease.
And so for the first time you have allowed yourself to love a
woman. Isn't that right?"
Yuichi did not submit to this claptrap the way he had for­
merly. His deep, sad eyes watched closely Shunsuke's excited
movements. He had learned to strip each word bare, seeking out
ways to test them .
..Just the same, how?" the youth said. "When you speak of
animal desire, you are talking about something much colder than
what people mean when they speak of reason. The emotion I felt
when I read that letter was much warmer than the animal desire
you refer to. Is it true that all feeling in this world other than
sexual desire is a lie ? If so, is not sexual desire also a lie? If only
the deficient state in which one desires another is the real thing,
all the states of momentary fulfillment are illusions. I certainly
can't see that. It is an existence like that of a beggar who, in
order that people will later throw more alms into his receptacle,
always hides his alms before the receptacle is full. It seems
awfully mean to me .
..I sometimes think I would like to involve myself wholeheart­
edly in something. If it is done on behalf of some lie, that's all
right. If it has no object, fine. In high school, I did a great deal
of high jumping and diving. It was great to throw my body into
the air. 'Now, now, now, I have stopped dead in the air !' I told
myself. The green of the field, the green of the pool water-they
were always around me. Now, I have nothing green around me.
If what I want to do is being done on behalf of a lie , good. For
instance, is the action of a man who enlists in the service and

( 22 8 ]
 Calamity to Jane Is Calamity to John

distinguishes himself less distinguished because he did it out of

self-deception?"
"My goodness, you're getting highfalutin, aren't you? You used
to be in agony because you found it hard to believe in the
existence of your own emotions; there wasn't a thing I could do
with you. So I showed you the joy of being without feeling. Now
you want to be unhappy again, eh? As your beauty is perfect so
must your unhappiness be. I have never said it outright before,
but the power that you have to make women and men unhappy
one after the other is not derived only from the power of your
beauty;· it also comes from your gift of being more unhappy than
anybody."
"You're right. At last you've said it, sir. With that, sir, your
instruction has become quite ordinary. All you've taught me is
that I must see my own unhappiness and live with it, and that
there is no way by which I can escape it. Tell me truly, sir, has
there never been one time when you have felt something?"
"Other than sexual desire, no."
The youth went on with a half-bantering smile : "Well, what
about the first time I saw you, on the shore last summer?"
Shunsuke marveled. He recalled the fierce sunlight of sum­
mer: the deep blue of that sea, a single eddy of water, the sea
breeze striking his ears. Then he recalled the Greek vision that
moved him so keenly, the vision of a bronze sculpture of the
Peloponnesus school.
Was there no sexual desire in that? If not, then a presentiment
of sex? At that time Shunsuke, who had passed his life far away
from thought, for the first time came to embrace thought. Was
that thinking really fille d with sexual desire? Until today his
undying misgivings had revolved around that question. Yuichi's
words had caught Shunsuke off guard.
The music from Rudon's record player stopped just then . The
place was quiet; the proprietor had gone off somewhere. Only
the horns of passing automobiles echoed noisily in the room.
Neon signs were coming on in town ; an ordinary night was
commencing.
For no reason at all Shunsuke thought of a scene from a novel
he had written long ago :

He loitered a while and looked at the cryptomeria tree. It was

a tall tree ; its age, too, was very great. There was a rift in one
corner of the cloudy heavens, and through it one shaft of

[ 229 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

sunlight came down like a waterfall and lit up the tree. It lit
it up, but it could not by any means penetrate inside the
cryptomeria. In vain it reached the periphery of the tree,
falling on the moss-covered earth . He was oddly conscious of
the will of the tree he was raising, its will to rise to heaven all
the while stubbornly holding off the penetrating light. It was
as if he had been given the mission of communicating to
heaven the exact image of that life's dark will.

He was reminded of a passage from l\1rs. Kaburagi's letter

that he had just read : "Thou wert a wall-to barbarian armies a
fortress ten thousand miles long. Thou wert a lover who would
never love me. Therefore I adored thee. I still adore thee, even
nO\V,"
Shunsuke looked at the rows of white teeth, like that long
fortress, between Yuichi's slightly parted lips.
Do I not feel sexual desire for this beautiful youth? he thought
to himself with a cold shiver. If not, there would be no reason
for my feeling this heart-rending emotion. It is as if before I was
aware I started feeling desire. It's impossible ! I love the flesh of
this young man.
The old man shook his head slightly. Without doubt his think­
ing had become filled with sexual desire. His thinking gained
power for the first time. Shunsuke had forgotten that he was
dead-he loved !
Shunsuke's heart suddenly became humble. In his eyes the
arrogant flame flickered out. He shrugged his Inverness-clad
shoulders as if he were folding his wings. Once again he stared
longingly at Yuichi's streamlined brows. Youth pervaded the air
around him.
If I love this youth sexually, he thought, and if this impossible
discovery is possible at my age, I cannot say that Yuichi cannot
love Mrs. Kaburagi sexually. How do you like that?
"Perhaps you do love Mrs. Kaburagi, for all I know. When I
listen to your voice, I somehow get that impression." Shunsuke
did not realize how bitter was the feeling in his words. The
thoughts he was expressing affected him as if he were stripping
the skin off his body. He was jealous !
As a teacher, Shunsuke was a little too honest. Thus he said
what he did. Those who teach young men are completely aware
of their youth and lmow that what the tt:acher says will be taken
as if he had the opposite end in mind. Sure enough, Yuichi,

[ 23 0 ]
 Calamity to Jane Is Calamity to John

having been spoken to thus directly, took the opposite tack.

Without help from anyone, he somehow had the courage to look
directly within himself.
No, that isn't so, he thought. I can't love Mrs. Kaburagi , that's
sure. For all I know I was in love with a second me, a beautiful
young man with a beauty beyond possibility in this world, whom
Mrs. Kaburagi loves so much. That letter certainly had power
enough. Anybody receiving a letter like that would have diffi­
culty in thinking of himself as the subject of it. I am not Narcis­
sus, he rationalized proudly. If I were in love with myself I
might without difficulty see myself and the subject of that letter
as the same thing. But I am not in love with myself. That is why
I fell in love with Yuchan.
Because of these reflections, Yuichi felt a somewhat confused
affection for Shunsuke. The reason was that, in this moment,
both Yuichi and Shunsuke loved the same person. You like me; I
like me; let's be friends-this is the axiom of egoistic affection.
At the same time it is the one and only manifestation of mutual
love.
"No, that cannot be. I understand now. I do not love Mrs.
Kaburagi," Yuchan said.
Shunsuke's countenance overflowed with joy.

That thing called love is very much like a fever, even with
the long period of incubation. During the incubation period the
various sensations of malaise await the onset of the illness, when
for the first time the symptoms are plain. As a result, the person
coming down with a disease believes that the underlying causes
of all the problems of the world are explicable in terms of fever.
War occurs : "That's the fever," he says with a gasp. A philoso­
pher suffers to resolve the pains of the world : "That's the fever,"
he says, suffering under his high temperature.
When Shunsuke Hinoki recognized that he desired Yuichi, he
knew the cause of his sentimental pining, of the jealousy that
pierced him from time to time, of the life which came to be
worth living when there was the possibility that Yuichi would
phone, of the mysterious pain of frustration, of the pain of
Yuichi's long silence that led him to plan the trip to Kyoto, of the
joy of that trip to Kyoto. This was, however, an ominous d.iscov-

( .Z J I ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

ery. If it was love, he thought, in the light of his past experience

failure was inevitable. There was no hope. He must wait for his
opportunity; he must hide his feelings as much as he could.
These were the things this old man, so very deficient in confi­
dence, told himself.
Free of the fixed idea that had held him fast, Yuichi discov­
ered again his happy confessor in Shunsuke. His conscience was
slightly troubled, and he said : "A little while ago, you seemed to
know about me and Mr. Kaburagi, sir. I didn't want to tell you
about that. How long h ave you known it? And how did you find
out?"
"Since the time he came looking for his cigarette case in the
hotel in Kyoto."
"But that time-"
"That's all right. That's all right. I'm not interested in hearing
about it. It would be wiser to think about what to do about this
letter. Here's the way you'd better think about it. No matter
whether she explains it a million times, if she really had any
respect for you she would have committed suicide for your sake.
You have to pay her back for that slight. Don't answer her. If
you become a plain ordinary third party, you'll help them revert
to what they were before."
"What about Mr. Kaburagi ? "
"Show him this letter," said Shunsuke, trying t o make this
disgusting part of the conversation brief. "Then you'd better let
him know you're breaking things off. The count will be put out,
and when he has nowhere else to tum hell go to Kyoto, proba­
bly. That way Mrs. Kaburagi's pain will be complete, too."
"I was just thinking that's what I should do," said Yuichi,
finding his urge to do mischief stimulated. "But there's one little
problem. Kaburagi is having financial trouble, and if I throw
him over-"
"Oh, are you concerned about something like that?" Shunsuke
said, looking with pleasure at this youth over whom he seemed
to be regaining his power. Then he went on, happily and
strongly : "If it were true that you let him do as he pleased with
you because of his money, that's another matter, but if that's not
true, it's no concern of yours whether he has money or not. At
any rate, you'll probably not get any salary from now on."
"To tell you the truth I barely got last month's salary the other
day."

[ 232 ]
 Calamity to jane Is Calamity to John

"See what I mean? Just the same, you're not sweet on Ka­
buragi, are you? "
"Cut i t out!" H e almost shouted i t ; his pride had been
wounded. "I only let him have my body."
This reply, so lacking in psychological clarity, suddenly op­
pressed Shunsuke. He thought of the soo,ooo yen he had given
Yuichi, and at the same time of the youth's docility in the
matter. It frightened him to think that, while they had this finan­
cial arrangement, Yuichi might not find it hard to let him have
his body. Again Yuichi was a riddle.
Not only that, when he thought over the scheme he had just
laid out and recalled Yuichi's agreement with it, Shunsuke was
uncomfortable. Some parts of the scheme were superfluous.
There was the superfluity provided by Shunsuke's self-interest,
which he permitted himself for the first time : I'm carrying on
like a jealous woman. . . . He enjoyed reflections like this that
made him seem even more disagreeable.
At this moment an elegant gentleman entered Rudon's.
He was about fifty, clean-shaven, with rimless glasses, and had
a mole beside his nose. He had a square, arrogant, handsome
face, like a German's . He kept his chin pulled in tight; the gleam
in his eye was frigid. The sharp cleft under his nose accentuated
the impression of coldness. His entire face was so formed that it
did not need to look down very much. It took into account the
laws of perspective ; the wi!Jful forehead stood ruggedly in the
background. There was only one fault; and that was the slight
facial neuralgia on the lower right side. When he stood just
inside the restaurant and looked around him, a tic ran like light­
ning from his eye to his j awbone. When that moment passed, his
entire face immediately looked as if nothing had happened.
His eyes met Shunsuke's. As he did so an ever so slight shadow
of bewilderment passed over him. He could not act as if they did
not know each other. He smiled in a friendly fashion and said,
"Oh, it's you, sir." His human goodness carne out on his face. It
was something he showed only to his most intimate friends.
Shunsuke indicated the chair beside him. The man sat down.
He talked with Shunsuke ; but once he became conscious of
Yuichi, his eyes somehow never left the youth's face. Yuichi was
not a little amazed by that face, and cheek on which the light­
ning ran every ten or twenty seconds. Shunsuke realized he
should introduce them.

[ 23J ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

"This is Mr. Kawada, president of Kawada Motors, an old

friend. This is my nephew, Yuichi Minami."
Yaichiro Kawada was born in Satsuma, in Kyushu, and was
the eldest son of the Yaichiro Kawada who started Japan's first
domestic auto industry. He was not a credit to his father as a
child, and wanted to be a novelist. He entered the preparatory
course of K -- University and took Shunsuke's course in
French literature. Shunsuke was asked to read his early flights in
fiction. He did not seem to have any talent, and was discour­
aged. His father took advantage of this opportunity and sent him
to Princeton University, in America, to major in economics. Mter
he graduated he was sent to Germany for practical instruction in
the motor industry. When he came home Yaichiro was com­
pletely changed. He had become a practical man.
He remained in obscurity until after the war, when his father
was purged. Then he became president of the firm. Mter his
father died he demonstrated ability that surpassed the old man's.
When the construction of large-size automobiles was prohibited,
he changed over to the construction of small cars and concen­
trated on exports to Asian countries. He also organized a sub­
sidiary in Yokosuka, through his own initiative took up the repair
of jeeps, and reaped tremendous profits. After he became presi­
dent, a certain incident served to rekindle his old association
with Shunsuke. He was the organizer of Shunsuke's lavish sixty­
first birthday party.
This chance meeting in Ruden's was nothing less than an un­
spoken confession. The two men never touched on the self-evi­
dent subject. Kawada asked Shunsuke to dinner. Mter he invited
him, he took out his notebook, flipped his glasses up on his
forehead and looked for gaps in his calendar. It was for all the
world like searching a tremendous dictionary for the place
where a forgotten flower lay pressed.
At last he found it : "Next Friday at nine. That's all. The
meeting set for that day has been postponed. I hope you can
make it." Still, this busy man had had the time to leave his auto­
mobile at a comer a block away to come stealthily to Ruden's.
Shunsuke accepted. Kawada added an unexpected reques t :
"How about the Kurohane, in Imai Cho? They have Takajo
cuisine . Of course, your nephew is invited. Is that all right?"
"Yeah," Shunsuke grunted ambiguously.

[ 23 4 ]
 Calamity to jane Is Calamity to john

''I'll make reservations for three people. I'll call you again so
you won't forget." He looked at his watch as if pressed for time.
"Oh, excuse me. I'd like to stay here and talk, but I can't. I'll be
looking forward to seeing you again."
The big shot departed in leisurely enough fashion, but the
impression he left on the two men quickly evaporated.
Shunsuke, out of sorts, said nothing. He felt as if in one short
instant of time Yuichi had been reviled before his eyes. He
talked about Kawada's career without being asked ; then, with a
rustle of his Inverness, he arose .
"Where are you going, sir?"
Shunsuke wanted to be alone. Besides, he had to be at a
banquet of the Fellows of the Academy in an hour.
"I have a meeting. That's why I came out. Come to my house
before five next Friday; Kawada will undoubtedly send a car
over to my house for us."
Yuichi realized that Shunsuke had extended his hand from the
voluminous sleeve of the Inverness. That wasted hand with its
prominent veins, extended from the shelter of the heavy cloth,
was filled with humiliation. If Yuichi were a little more ill­
tempered, he could easily have overlooked that miserable hand.
However, he took it. The hand trembled ever so slightly.
"Well, sayonara."
"Thank you very much, sir, for today."
"Thank me? Don't thank me for anything."
When Shunsuke had departed, the youth called up Nobutaka
Kaburagi to find out whether he was free.
"What's that? You got a letter from her?" he asked, with a
rising inflection in his voice. "No, don't come over. I'll meet you.
Have you had supper yet? " He gave the name of a restaurant.

While they waited for their food, Nobutaka read his wife's
letter hungrily. When the soup came, he still had not finished.
By then, the swollen bits of alphabet macaroni, impossible to
decipher, had become sodden at the bottom of the bowl.
Nobutaka did not look at Yuichi. He looked in another direc­
tion and sucked up his soup. Yuichi looked with more than a
little curiosity at this unfortunate man who wanted sympathy

[ 235 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

b u t had n o one t o turn t o , thinking that surely, at th e expense of

good manners, he would spill the soup in his lap. His soup was
soon gone, though, without spilling.
"Poor thing," Nobutaka soliloquized, putting down his spoon.
"Poor thing . . . no woman was ever so unfortunate."
There was a reason that Nobutaka's way of exaggerating his
feelings should now have an exasperating effect on Yuichi. It
was Yuichi's moral concern for Mrs. Kaburagi.
Nobutaka said over and over : "That poor woman. That poor
woman." Then, using his wife as a pretext, he tried indirectly to
excite sympathy for himself. But Yuichi's expression never
altered, and Nobutaka at last lost patience and s aid : "I was the
bad one all the time. Nobody is to blame."
"Is that so?"
"Yuchan, how can you be so cruel? Yes, be cold to me. But my
wife, who was not to blame-"
"I wasn't to blame either."
The count carefully picked the small bones from the fish on
his plate and placed them on the edge of his dish. He said noth­
ing. Mter a time he said, almost weeping : "You're right. I'm fin­
ished."
This was more than Yuichi could stand. This hard-shelled,
middle-aged homosexual was amazingly deficient in c andor. The
unseemly behavior which he now displayed was ten times worse
than candid unseemliness. He was trying to make it look noble.
Yuichi looked around him at the other diners. A very prim
young American couple ate their supper facing each other. They
said little. They smiled almost not at all. The woman gave a little
sneeze and hurriedly covered her mouth and said, "Excuse me."
Elsewhere a group of Japanese, related to one another, who
seemed to have come from a memorial service, sat at a big round
table. They were exchanging slander about the deceased and
laughing loudly. The voice of a woman of about fifty-evidently
the widow-dressed in blue-gray mourning clothes and wearing
rings on every finger, spoke shrilly : "My husband bought me
seven diamond rings altogether. I sold four of them without his
knowing it and substituted glass stones. When the war carne,
along with the jewelry-donation drive, I lied and said I had
donated the four I sold. I kept the three genuine ones as my
share. Here they are." She spread out her hand so they all were
visible. "My husband congratulated me for not reporting them all

[ 236 ]
 Calamity to Jane Is Calamity to John

to the government! 'Your dishonesty amazes me l' he said."

"Ha, h a l The only one who didn't know was your husband."
The table where Yuichi and Nobutaka sat seemed cut off from
the rest. The metal furnishings-flower vase, knives and spoons
-glittered coldly. Yuichi suspected that the distaste he felt for
Nobutaka probably originated from the fact that they were
members of the special fraternity.
"Will you go to Kyoto for me?" Nobutaka said abruptly.
"Why?"
"Why? You're the only one who can bring her back."
..Are you using me?"
"Using you?" A pained smile lifted Pope's proud lips. "Don't
be so distant, Yuchan."
"It won't work. Even if I went, your wife would never come
back to Tokyo."
"How can you say that?"
"Because I know your wife."
"This amazes me. I've been married to her for twenty years."
"I haven't known her for even half a year, but I fancy I know
your wife well."
"You're setting yourself up as a rival in love, eh?"
"Yes. Maybe."
"You don't say, Yuchan-"
"Don't worry. I can't stand women. But you, sir, have you
decided lately to be a husband to this woman?"
"Yuchan," he said, in a horrible, sticky voice, "let's not quar­
rel. Please I"
After that the two ate in silence. Yuichi had miscalculated
somewhat. He was acting like an attending surgeon scolding his
patient in order to encourage him; before he broached the sub­
ject of separation, he wished to destroy the other's affection for
him. If he was kind enough to wish to do it with as little pain as
possible, however, the cold treatment he had been using was
certainly wrong. He should h ave humored Nobutaka in a kindly
and cooperative spirit, even though he didn't mean it. For what
Pope had fallen in love with was his spiritual cruelty. To the
extent he showed that, he would stimulate Pope's imagination
agreeably and deepen his illusions even more.
When they left the restaurant, Pope gently linked his arm in
Yuichi's . Yuichi let him do it-out of disdain. The young lovers
passing by were also walking arm-in-arm. He heard a youth who

[ 237 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

looked like a student murmur in a girl's ear : "Look, there ; they

must be homosexuals."
"Oh, how awful !"
Yuichi's face reddened in humiliation and anger. He pulled his
arm away and put his h ands in his pockets. Nobutaka suspected
nothing. He was accustomed to treatment like this.
"Them ! Them !" Yuichi ground his teeth. "They who pay three
hundred and fifty yen for a lunch hour together in a hotel bed,
and have their great love affair in the sight of heaven. They who,
if all goes well, build their rat's-nest love nests. They who,
·sleepy-eyed, diligently multiply. They who go out on Sundays
with all their children to clearance sales at the department
stores. They who scheme out one or two stingy infidelities in
their lifetimes. They who always show off their healthy homes,
their healthy morality, their common sense, their self-satisfac­
tion."
Victory, however, is always on the side of the commonplace.
Yuichi knew that all the scorn he could muster could not combat
their natural scorn.
It was still too early to go to the nightclub to which Nobutaka
had invited Yuichi in order to celebrate his wife's return from
the dead. They went to a movie to kill time.
It was a film of the American West. Up in the yellow-brown
mountains a rider is pursued by a band of villains. The hero
takes a short cut and from a crevice in the rocks at the top of the
mountain snipes at his pursuers. A villain who has been shot
falls headlong down the slope. Yonder, at the horizon overgrown
with cactus, the tragic clouds shine . . . . With mouths slightly
open, the two men looked aghast at this world of undeniable
action.
When they went out, the street at ten on that spring evening
was cold. Nobutaka stopped a taxi and ordered it to Nihonbashi.
Tonight they were celebrating the opening of a nightclub featur­
ing service until 4 a.m. in the basement of a famous Nihonbashi
stationery store.
The manager, in a tuxedo, stood at the reception desk greeting
the guests. What Yuichi found out when he got there was that
Nobutaka, an old friend of the manager, had been invited this
evening for a free party. This evening's celebration was to be on
the house.
A number of so-called famous people came. Yuichi uneasily
 Calamity to Jane Is Calamity to John

watched Nobutaka passing out his cards from Far East Marine
Products. There were artists and literary men. It almost seemed
as if Shunsuke's "meeting" would be this one, but of course he
was nowhere here. The music blared constantly; many couples
danced. Hostesses who had been rounded up for the opening
wore their latest-style hired dresses buoyantly. Their evening
gowns were certainly unsuited to the interior decoration of a
mountain hut.
"Let's drink until morning," the beautiful woman dancing with
Yuichi said. "Are you that man's private secretary? Let's give him
the slip. Come sleep at my house and get up at noon. I'll fry you
some eggs. Since you're just a boy, though, you like scrambled
eggs better, don't you ?"
"Me? I like an omelet."
"Omelet? Oh, you're cute." The drunken woman kissed him.
They went to their seats. Nobutaka was waiting with two gin
fizzes. He said, "Let's make a toast."
"To what?"
"To the health of Mrs. Kaburagi."
The curiosity of the women was piqued by this toast so full of
hidden meaning. Yuichi looked at the lemon floating with the
crushed ice in his glass. Around that circumference of lemon a
hair, seemingly a woman's, was twined. He closed his eyes and
drank it down, as if it were a hair belonging to Mrs. Kaburagi.
It was one o'clock when Nobutaka Kaburagi and Yuichi left.
Nobutaka started for a cab. Yuichi unconcernedly walked off.
He's sulking, thought the man who loved him. He must have
known we would sleep together after all this. If not, he wouldn't
have come this far. My wife isn't here, so he can stay at my
house with impunity.
Yuichi did not turn around; he walked quickly toward the
Nihonbashi intersection. Nobutaka followed beind him, breath­
ing painfully : "Where are you going?"
''I'm going home."
"Don't be stubborn."
"I have a family."
A cab arrived. Nobutaka opened the door. He took Yuichi by
the arm. The youth was stronger than he. He pulled his arm
away and said, ''You go on home alone." The two stood glaring
at each other for a time. Nobutaka gave up and closed the door
in the face of the grumbling driver.

[ 239 J
 F O R B I D D E N C OL OR S

"Let's walk a little an d talk. While we're walking we'll sober

up."
"I have something to say, too."
Nobutaka's breast palpitated uneasily. They walked for a time
on the deserted sidewalk, the sound of their shoes echoing.
On the trolley street, cruising cabs slipped back and forth.
One step into the alleys, however, the finn steadfast calm of the
city's center reigned. After a time they walked in back of the
N -- B ank. There the round street lamps shone bright. The
bank structure towered darkly in a collection of tall strong
ridges. Except for the night watch, the residents of this section
were all gone. Only piles of stones in disciplined ranks remained.
The windows were shut, dark behind iron bars. In the cloudy
sky, distant thunder sounded. Lightning faintly lit a surface of
the round pillars of the bank next door.
"What did you want to say?"
"I think we should break up."
Nobutaka did not answer. For a time only the sound of their
footsteps echoed in the broad expanse of the street.
"Why so sudden?"
"The time has come."
"Aren't you being selfish? "
"i'm being objective."
The childishness of that word "objective" made Nobutaka
laugh.
"I can't leave you."
"Suit yourself; but I'm not going to sleep with you anymore."
"But, Yuchan, since I met you, philanderer though I h ave
been, I haven't once been untrue to you. I lived for you alone.
The hives that appear on your chest on cold nights, your voice,
your profile in the dawn at the gay party, the smell of your
pomade : if these things were gone . . ."

The youth muttered in his heart : "Then buy the same

pomade and smell it to your heart's content. How's that?" He
found the pressure of Nobutaka's shoulder against his distaste­
ful.
They suddenly realized that the river was just in front of them.
Several boats tied up along the pier were incessantly emitting
heavy, squeaky sounds. Headlight beams of the automobiles on
the bridge across the way crisscrossed and threw out great shad­
ows.

[ 2 40 ]
 Calamity to Jane Is Calamity to John

They turned back, walking again. Nobutaka talked constantly

and excitedly. He stubbed his toe against something that went
rolling off with a faint, dry noise. It was a branch of an
imitation cherry tree used as decoration for a department-store
sale. The dirty paper cherry tree rustled with the sound of waste
paper.
"Do we really have to part? Do you mean it? Yuchan, is our
friendship really at an end?"
"Friendship? That's odd. If we were friends, we wouldn't h ave
had to sl_eep together, would we? We11 be able to meet as
friends from now on, if that's what we are."
Nobutaka said nothing.
"Well, you don't like that."
"Yuchan, please, don't leave me alone." They entered a dark
alley. 'Til do anyth,ing you like. Anything. If you ask me to kiss
your shoes, I'll do it."
"Stop the theatrics, won't you?"
''I'm not acting. I mean it. I'm not acting."
Possibly a man like Nobutaka is only himself on the occasions
when he is involved in a big act. In front of a candy store, its
iron grating pulled down over its display window, he knelt down
on the sidewalk. He embraced Yuichi's leg and kissed his shoe.
The smel! of shoe polish threw him into ecstasy. He even kissed
the toes of the shoes, which had become dusty. He unbuttoned
the youth's coat and attempted to kiss his trousers, so Yuichi
bent over and with all his power tore himself free from Pope's
anns, which were clinging to his calves like a trap.
Terror took possession of Yuichi. He started running.
Nobutaka did not follow. He got up and brushed off the dust.
He took out a white h andkerchief. He wiped his lips. The hand­
kerchief was smudged with shoe polish. Nobutaka was already
the Nobutaka he had always been. He walked off in his affected,
tum-a-screw-walk, tum-a-screw-walk gait.
On one street comer he could see the far-off shape of Yuichi
stopping a taxi. The cab moved off. Count Kaburagi wanted to
walk until the night brightened. His heart called not Yuichi but
the name of his wife. She was his partner, his partner in crime
and also his partner in calamity, in disappointment, and in grief.
Nobutaka thought he would go to Kyoto alone.

[ 24 1 ]
 CHAPTER 2I

C H UTA IN OLD AGE

NOW SPRING SUDDENLY became itself. It rained often, but

between the rains it was very warm. There was one unusually
cold day; for about an hour snow flurried.
The day approached when Kawada would take Shunsuke and
Yuichi to dine in the Takajo style ; meanwhile the Hinoki me­
nage, consisting of a maid and a houseboy, found Shunsuke's ill
temper hard to bear. It wasn't only the maid and the houseboy.
When the admirer-turned-chef was called one evening to cook
for Shunsuke's guests, he was treated to a surprise. Usually
Shunsuke would praise the skill of his cooking in friendly fash­
ion. He would never forget to have a drink with him and thank
him for his pains. The man was amazed this time, therefore,
when Shunsuke, without a kind word of comment, went up to
his second-floor study and shut himself in.
Kaburagi came over to announce that he was going to Kyoto
and to leave a keepsake for Yuichi. Shunsuke accorded him a
lukewarm reception and sent him packing.
Shunsuke thought so many times of phoning Kawada to call
off the date. But he could not-why, Shunsuke himself could not
explain.
Yuichi's words, "I only let him have my body," nagged him.
The night before, Shunsuke worked very late. He had
stretched out on the little bed in the corner of his study. The
night was far gone. When he bent his knees and tried to sleep,
they suddenly became acutely painful. His right knee had re­
quired medication lately because of frequent seizures of neural­
gia. He still used the analgesic Pavinal, morphine in powdered

[ 242 ]
 Chuta in Old Age

form, which he washed down with water from the bottle on his
night table . Although the pain stopped, he remained wakeful.
He arose and went to his desk again. He relighted the gas
heater which he had earlier turned off. The desk is a mysterious
piece of furniture. Once a writer faces it, he is mysteriously
seized by it and held fast. Mter that it is only with great effort
that he can tear himself away.
Shunsuke's creative powers were returning to life, like the
reviving flowers. He had written two or three fragmentary books
brimming with a mysterious energy. They were recrudescences of
the time of the Taiheiki, novels filled with arabesques like the
display of decapitated heads, or the burning of monasteries, or
the revelation of the child of the Hannya Temple, or the love
affair of the Great Priest of the Shiga Daitoku Temple and the
Great Imperial Concubine of Kyogoku. They also turned to the
ancient world of the Kagura songs, and touched upon the heart­
break of the man who must relinquish the boy wearing the
hairlock of childhood. The long occasional piece named "Even a
Spring Day," patterned after the "Ionian melancholy'' of ancient
Greece, had behind it also the paradoxical influence of an actual
society like that of the "plague-infested meads" of Empedocles.
Shunsuke put down his brush. He had been attacked by wild,
unhappy imaginings. Why do I look on with arms folded? Why?
the old man thought. Am I acting the craven part of Chuta at
my age? Why don't I c all up and cancel it? Now that I think of
it, it's because Yuichi himself consented. Not only that, he and
Kaburagi have already broken up. In short, I am upset that
Yuichi belongs to nobody. If so, why don't I . . . ? Oh , it's not
right that I should. It would never be right. It would not be right
for me who can't even look directly at myself in a mirror. Be­
sides, a work of art is by no means the property of its creator.
Now and then the crowing of roosters was audible. Hearing
those bursting voices was like glimpsing the redness inside the
roosters' mouths. Dogs, too, barked fiercely from place to place.
They were like a band of thieves, each tied up separate from the
others, all gnashing their teeth at the ignominy of their bonds
and exchanging shouts with one another.
Shunsuke sat down on the sofa that served as a window seat
and smoked a cigarette. The collection of old ceramics and the
totem doll stirred no emotion in him as they stood around the
window in the dawn. He looked at the pitch-black garden trees

[ 243 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

and the purple sky. When he looked down, he noticed that a

rattan lounge chair the old maidservant had forgotten was lying
in the middle of the lawn at an angle. Morning was born from
the yellowish-brown rectangle above this aging rattan. He was
very tired. The lounge chair in the garden gradually brightenin g
in the morning mist taunted him. It was like a long rest floating
in the distance, a long layoff forced upon him by death. His
cigarette was burning to its end. He defied the cold air, opened
the window, and threw out the cigarette. It did not reach the
rattan chair but fell into a Kamiyo cryptomeria and came to rest
in its foliage. A point of fire burned an apricot color for a while.
He went downstairs to his bedroom and slept.

In the evening, Yuichi arrived early and Shunsuke imme­

diately told him the story of Nobutaka Kaburagi's visit several
days before.
After Nobutaka had arranged to sell his house to the inn that
occupied the main house, to be used by them as an annex, he
had immediately set out for Kyoto. Yuichi was somewhat dis­
appointed that Nobutaka had not said much about him He had.

said that the corporation had fallen into bad straits, and he was
·going to work for the Forestry Bureau or something in Kyoto.
Shunsuke gave Yuichi the keepsake from Nobutaka. It was the
c at's-eye ring Nobutaka had received from Jackie on the night
when Yuichi first became his.
"Well," Shunsuke said, with a mechanical cheerfulness
brought on by la.ck of sleep. "This is your party tonight. If you
had seen Kawada's look the other day, you would know that I
am not the guest of honor, but really you are. Even so, it was
fun the other day, wasn't it? Our relationship must have been
cause for some wondrous suspicions."
"Let's keep it that way, shall we? "
"Somehow lately I a m like a puppet and you are the puppet
master."
"Just the same I took care of Mr. and Mrs. Kaburagi just as
you told me to."
"By some blessed chance."
Kawada's car arrived. The two waited for a time at the
Kurohane, and before long Kawada joined them . He was very

[ 2 44 ]
 Chuta in Old Age

relaxed from the moment he sat down on a cushion. Gone was

the awkwardness of the other day. When we meet men of differ­
ing occupations, we like to affect ease like this. Kawada's old
student-teacher relationship with Shunsuke helped : be was try­
ing to exaggerate for Shunsuke the way in which the air of the
boorish man of affairs had replaced the literary sensitivity of his
youth. Thus he deliberately made mistakes in the French classics
he had learned long ago. He confused Racine's Phedre and BTi­
tannicus and sought a ruling by Shunsuke.
He told a story of the Phedre he had seen at the Comedie
Fran�aise. He recalled the pure beauty of that youth, closer to
the woman-disdaining Hippolytus of ancient Greek tradition
than the elegant Hippolyte of traditional French drama. He
seemed to be uttering a long, tedious, self-centered statement of
opinions in order to demonstrate his complete lack of literary
sensibility.
At the end he looked at Yuichi and remarked : "It would be a
pity if you don't take a trip abroad while you're young." Who in
the world was there to help him do it? Kawada had been calling
Yuichi "Nephew San" constantly, going by the statement Sbun­
suke had made the other day.
In the Takajo fashion a metal grill is placed over burning
charcoal before each person. Each guest is covered with an
apron from the neck down and cooks his meat himself. Shun­
suke, his face flaming from the effects of wine and with a ridicu­
lous apron tied to his neck, looked indescribably silly. He com­
pared Kawada's and Yuichi's faces. He could not figure out what
on earth had led him to accept the invitation and bring Yuichi
here when he had full knowledge what was going to happen. It
was quite painful for him to compare himself with the aged high
priest in the book he had seen in the Daigo Temple. He felt
perhaps that he preferred the role of Chuta, the intermediary.
Beautiful things always intimidate me, Shunsuke thought.
More than that, sometimes they drag me down. How can that
be? Is it a superstition that beauty elevates mankind?
Kawada spoke to Yuichi about his choice of a profession.
Yuichi half-humorously said that once he started depending on
his in-laws be would probably not be able to hold his head up in
their presence for the rest of his life.
"Do you have a wife ?" asked Kawada, surprised.
"Don't worry, Kawada, old fellow," the old novelist put in,

[ 245 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

before h e realized what h e was saying. "Don't worry. This young

man is Hippolyte." The meaning of this slightly clumsy meta­
phor was quickly understood by Kawada.
"Fine. Hippolyte , that's good. I'd like to do what I can in the
matter of finding employment for you."
Their dinner progressed pleasantly. Even Shunsuke was cheer­
ful. He felt a strange pride at seeing the desire mounting in
Kawada's eyes as he looked at Yuichi.
Kawada sent the waitresses away. He wanted to talk of some­
thing in th� past that he had never told anyone about. He had
looked forward to the opportunity of telling this to Shunsuke. It
seems he had maintained his bachelorhood up until this time
only by heroic effort. He had even had to take desperate mea­
sures when he was in Berlin. When it was nearly time to return
home, he had deli�rately lavished money on a low-class prosti·
tute and, holding his nose, had moved in with her. He then sent
a letter off to his parents for permission to marry. The elder
Yaichiro Kawada had some business to do in Germany and
stopped by to have a look at his son's intended wife. He was
shocked when he saw her.
The son pleaded that if he was not permitted to marry her he
would die, and displayed the revolver in his inside pocket to
show he meant it. The woman acted as one would h ave expected
her to. The elder Yaichiro Kawada was a man of dispatch. He
gave this pure-hearted German "lotus in the mud" money to help
her bear her lot, and by way of controlling his son, took him
back to Japan on the Chichibu Maru. On the ship's deck, he
never left his son's side. His anxious eyes were always fixed on
the region of his son's belt, ready to grab it if the boy tried to
jump overboard.
When he got back to Japan, the son would listen to no mar­
riage proposal. He could not forget his German Cornelia. On his
desk there was always a picture of her. When it came to work he
became a practical, hard German taskmaster; when it came to
living, he acted the part of a pure German dreamer. He persisted
in this conduct and remained single.
Kawada tasted to the lees the pleasure of pretending to be
what he himself despised. Romanticism and the habit of dream­
ing were among the utterly stupid things he had discovered in
Germany. Just as a traveler buys by impulse, he out of his great
wisdom bought and donned the flimsy hat and mask needed for
 Chuta in Old Age

his fancy ball. Chaste emotions and certainty of the superiority of

the inner world in the style of Navalis, and out of reaction to
them a dry-as-dust practical life and a misanthropic will: these
he maintained effortlessly until the time when these attitudes
were no longer suited to him. He lived ostensibly by an idea he
felt would never affe ct him. Perhaps Kawada's facial twitch had
come from this constant internal betrayal. When there was talk
of his marri age, he put on a show of misery that he had enacted
so many times before. Everyone found it easy to believe at such
times that his eyes were fixed on the vision of Cornelia.
"I looked over there . Exactly in the direction of the lintel ," he
said, indicating ·with the hand that held his sake cup. "There.
Don't my eyes look just as if they're fixed on a memory? "
"Your glasses are shining. Unfortunately w e can't see your
eyes," Shunsuke said. Kawada took off his glasses and rolled his
eyes upward. Shunsuke and Yuichi laughed at him.
Cornelia was in truth a double memory. First , Kawada, play­
ing the part in the memory, fooled Cornelia. Mter that, he be­
came the person he himself had been in Cornelia's memory and
fooled others. So that he might create the legend about himself,
Cornelia absolutely had to exist. The woman who existed by not
being loved-consciousness of her was a phantasmagoric image
in his heart. If he did not establish the reasons for his lifelong
bondage to that image, it would disappear. She became the
generic term for all the diversity of which his life had been
capable, the incarnation of the negative power that would carry
his real life through its course. Now Kawada himself could not
believe that she was mean and ugly; he saw her as nothing less
than an extraordinarily beautiful woman. When his father died,
be resolutely burned his vulgar pictures of Cornelia.
This story moved Yuichi. If it is wrong to s ay moved, let us
say intoxicated : "Cornelia really exists I" Let it needlessly be
added that the youth was thinking of Mrs. Kaburagi, who
through absence bad acquired a beauty unknown in the
world.

It was nine o'clock. Yaichiro Kawada untied his bib and

glanced at his watch. Shunsuke felt himself shiver faintly.
One should ·not think that Shunsuke had descended to the

[ 2 47 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

level o f this worldly creature. His abysmal feeling o f impotence

had its source in Yuichi.
"Well," Kawada said, "this evening I'm going to Kamakura for
the night. I'm going to stay at the Kofuen."
Yuichi felt that the die had been cast before his eyes. The
roundabout formality of soliciting a man is quite different from
that of approaching a woman. All the limitless twists and turns
of the hypocritical joys of heterosexuality are closed to homo­
sexuals. If Kawada desired Yuichi's body this evening, politeness
required that he ask for it. This Narcissus looked at the middle­
aged man and the old man, neither of whom held for him so
much as an infinitesimal amount of charm. They had completely
forgotten their worldliness and were making a fuss over him
alone. They were not concerned in the slightest about his mind.
Only his body was of supreme concern, and he felt something
different from the thrill of sensuality a woman would feel under
these circumstances. It was as if his body had become independ­
ent of himself, and he himself was a second person admiring
that independent body. His soul, while trampling upon and
vilifying his first body, clung to that admired body and attempted
to achieve a tenuous balance. He was finding a pleasure rare in
the world!
"I always speak my mind, and I hope you'll forgive me if I say
something that may trouble you, but Yuichi is not really your
nephew, is he?"
"Really? No, not a real nephew. But, after all, even though
there might be such a thing as a real friend, I'm not sure that
there is such a thing as a real nephew." This was Shunsuke's
novelist's way of giving a straight answer.
"And if I may ask another question, are you and Yuichi only
friends? Or-"
"You're wondering if we're lovers, aren't you? I'm not of the
age for love."
The two men almost simultaneously looked over at the beauti­
ful eyelashes of the youth sitting cross-legged beside them, hold­
ing a folded bib in his hand and looking away from them, calmly
smoking. A roguish beauty had come to dwell upon Yuichi.
"That's all I wanted to ask, and I feel better," Kawada said,
deliberately not looking at Yuichi. As he said these words a tic
ran down his cheek like a jagged underscoring drawn by a soft,
broad-pointed pencil. "Well, I hate to break up the party, but we
 Chuta in Old Age

have talked about a lot of things, and I've really enjoyed it.
From now on I'd like very much to have a secret meeting with
the same people at least once a month. I'll look around to see if I
can find a better place. When it comes to the mob that con­
gregates at Hudon's , they're not really worth talking to, and I
never have any opportunities to chat like this. At the bars of that
kind in Berlin, now, first-class nobility, industrialists, poets,
novelists, and actors used to appear." It was typical that he
should list them in that order. In short, in this unconscious
grouping, he obviously displayed the German Burger thinking
which he had convinced himself was all a pretense.
In the darkness before the gate of the restaurant two auto­
mobiles were parked on the not very wide, sloping street. One
was Kawada's Cadillac 62. The other was a hired cab.
The night wind was still cold, the sky cloudy. In this section
there were a good many houses that had been built after the fire
bombings, and there was a strangely brand-new board fence
built in continuation of a stone wall with a ruined comer re­
paired with zinc-covered boards. The color of the fresh white
lumber was vivid, almost lurid under the faint gleam of the
street lights.
Only Shunsuke hesitated, putting on his gloves. In front of this
old man solemnly pulling on his leather gloves, Kawada covertly
touched Yuichi's finger with his bare hand and toyed with it.
Then the time came when it had to be decided which of the
three would be left alone in one of the cars . Kawada said good
night and in a perfectly natural way put his hand on Yuichi's
shoulder and led him to his own car. Shunsuke dared not follow.
He still had hope, however. When Yuichi, propelled by Kawada,
had one shoe on the running board of the Cadillac, he turned
and said in a cheerful voice : "Oh, sir, I'm going along with Mr.
Kawada; would you be so kind as to call my wife ?"
"Tell her he is staying over at your house," said Kawada.
The hostess who was seeing them off said : "My, the awful
problems men do have."
And thus Shunsuke became the single passenger in the cab.
That was only a matter of a few seconds. Although the inevi­
tability of this developing course of events was clear, watching it
one could not escape the impression that it had resolved itself
quite suddenly. Of what Yuichi was thinking, with what feel­
ings he had followed Kawada, Shunsuke knew nothing. For all

[ .Z 4 9 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

he knew, Yuichi, with the attitude of a child, simply wanted to

take the drive to Kamakura. The only thing clear was that he,
Shunsuke, had again been ousted.
The car passed through the deteriorating shopping section of
the old city. He felt the rows of street lights slipping by at the
edges of his vision. When he thought so intently about Yuichi, he
was pushed down to the realm of beauty alone. Perhaps deeper.
There, behavior became lost; everything became resolved into
spirit, into nothing but shadows, nothing but metaphors. He was
spirit itself-namely, a metaphor of the body. When would he
be able to arise from this metaphor? Not only that, should he be
content with his destiny? Should he puncture the conviction that
held that since he was of this world he must die? At any rate, the
heart of this aged Chuta almost reached the point of anguish.

[ 2JO )
 C H A P TER 22

THE SED UCER

WHEN HE GOT HOME, Shunsuke immediately dashed off a

letter to Yuichi. The passion that had gone with writing in the
old French diary revived, and the brush with which he wrote the
letter dripped oaths, gushed hatred. Naturally he was incapable
of directing that animus toward Yuichi. Shunsuke took the anger
of the present and used it to inflate all the more his unyielding
resentment against the vagina.
As he cooled down a little in the process of writing, he recog­
nized that his tedious, emotional letter was not very persuasive.
It was not a love letter. It was an order. He rewrote it, slipped it
in an envelope, and ran his tongue along the glued flap. The
hard Western paper cut his lip. He stood in front of the mirror,
pressed a h andkerchief against the cut, and mumbled : "Yuichi
will do as I say. He will do just what it says in the letter. That
much is clear. The orders in the letter will not go against his
desires. The parts of it that he doesn't like will still be under my
control."
He walked about the room in the deep night. If he stood still
for a moment he could not keep from seeing Yuichi's form in
that Kamakura inn. He closed his eyes and crouched before the
three-way mirror. In the mirror, which he could not see, flashed
a vision of a naked Yuichi lying supine on a white sheet, his
lovely, strong head and shoulders fallen away from the pillow
and slumped down on the tatami. His throat, held back as it
was, appeared faintly white, perhaps because of the moonlight
falling upon it. The old author lifted his bloodshot eyes and

[ 2) I ]
 F O R B ID D EN C O L O R S

looked a t the mirror. The sleeping form o f Endymion had

vanished.

Yuichi's spring vacation was over. The last year of his

student life was about to begin. His class was the last under the
old system.
On the edge of the thick wood that ringed the college pond,
numerous grassy hummocks formed a rolling landscape toward
the sports field. The green of the grass was still pale. Though the
sky was clear, the wind was cold. At such times as the lunch
hour, however, students could be seen here and roundabout on
the lawn. The season when lunch could be eaten out of doors
had arrived.
They lay sprawled about at their ease, careless of how they
looked, sat cross-legged, chewed on fine, bright-green wicks of
grass they picked, and watched the athletes busily moving about
the field. One of the athletes pranced near. When his shadow,
small at noon, stood for a solitary moment on the sand, he
seemed bewildered, embarrassed, deserted, ready to turn to the
supreme naked body in the sky and shout : "Hey ! Hurry back,
please ! Hurry back and dominate m e l I'm dying of embarrass­
ment! Soon ! Now !" The athlete jumped back upon his shadow.
His heels adhered to the darker heels beneath them. The sun
shone abroad ; there were no clouds.
Yuichi, wearing a suit, sat on the grass. A literature student
engrossed in Greek language studies told him the plot of
Euripides' Hippolytus in reply to his questions.
"Hippolytus came to a tragic end. He was chaste, stainlessly
pure and innocent, and he died under a curse, believing in his
own innocence. Hippolytus' ambitions, however, were really
quite small; his wishes were something that could be granted to
anyone."
The young pedant in spectacles recited a speech of Hippolytus
in Greek. When Yuichi asked what it meant, he translated : " 'I
would like to conquer all the men of Greece in the games and
become the champion . However, I would not mind taking sec­
ond place in the city if I could live happily with virtuous friends.
Indeed, there lies the true happiness. And since, thus, freedom
from danger will give me joy greater than that of a king . . .' "

[ 2J2 ]
 The Seaucer

His hopes were something that could be granted to anyone.

were they? Perhaps not, Yuichi thought. Beyond that, however,
his thoughts did not go. As for Shunsuke, here's how he would
think : this ever so small wish of Hippolytus could never be
granted. Thus his wish was the symbol of pure human desire, a
brilliant, resplendent thing.
Yuichi thought about the contents of the letter he had re­
ceived from Shunsuke. The letter had its charm. It was an order
to act, no matter how artificial the action. Moreover-and this
took for granted faith in Shunsuke-such action had a safety
valve in complete, cynical blasphemy. None of his plans were
tedious, that much could be said for him.
"Of course; now I remember," the young man said to himself.
"I remember my telling him once that I wanted to give myself to
something, even something false-even something purposeless.
He must have remembered that and cooked up this plan. Mr.
Hinoki is a bit of a scoundrel." He smiled. At that very moment
left-wing students were parading in twos and threes at the edge
of the grassy elevation. It occurred to him that they. too, were
moved by the same impulse as he.
It was one o'clock. The bell in the clock tower sounded. The
students got to their feet. They brushed away the dirt and the
grass stems that clung to their uniforms. Yuichi's coat, too, held
the light dust of spring, dried grass, and lawn clippings. The
friend who brushed him was struck again with admiration at the
tailoring of the coat he wore so casually.
His friends went to their classrooms. Yuichi, who had a date
with Kyoko, left them and walked alone in the direction of the
main gate. There he was suprised to see Jackie, dressed like a
student, getting off the trolley along with four or five others.
This so astonished him that he failed to get aboard.
They shook hands. Yuichi said nothing as he looked Jackie full
in the face. To an onlooker, surely these two would have seemed
to be nothing more than two carefree classmates. Under the
bright noontime sun, Jackie was hiding at least twenty years of
time, age, and experience.
After a while Jackie, laughing loudly at Yuichi's amazement,
led him into the shade of the trees along the street, to the side of
the school fence festooned with political posters of all shapes
and colors. There he explained in detail the reasons for his dis­
guise. He could pick out a youth of his persuasion at a glance,

[ 2 53 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

but as a result his palate had become jaded with adventures of

that sort. For the same seductive purposes, however, he had
come to wish that he could fool another completely-one who
would be much more at ease if his lover were a classmate. There
would be mutual esteem, an absence of inhibition, and a pleas­
ant aftertaste. Jackie had a student uniform copied for him, and
with great deliberation carne hunting from Oiso to this harem of
young men.
Jackie looked quite content with Yuichi's loud praise of his
youthfulness. He asked in a somewhat hurt tone why Yuichi did
not come to enjoy himself at Oiso. He braced himself against a
tree with one hand, crossed his legs gracefully, and with a look
that said "I don't care," drummed with his fingers on the posters
on the fence. "Huh, they've been making the same statements for
twenty years," the ageless youth muttered.
The trolley carne. Yuichi left Jackie and rode away.

Kyoko was to meet Yuichi in the clubhouse of the inter­

n ational tennis club in the Imperial Palace grounds. She played
tennis until noon. She changed her clothes. She ate. She chatted
with her tennis companions. Mter they left, she remained alone
in a tennis chair.
The scent of her Black Satin perfume mingled with faint per­
spiration rose from her flushed cheeks like a vague anxiety un­
dermining her sweet after-exercise fatigue in the dry, windless
air of high noon. She wondered if she had put on too much. She
took a h and mirror out of her navy-blue handbag and looked in
it. The mirror couldn't reflect the smell of perfume, but it satis­
fied her and she put it away.
She didn't wear light-colored coats in spring; the navy-blue
coat she had chosen so deliberately was spread over the white
chair. It protected her tender back from the rough frame of the
chair. Her bag and shoes were of the same blue; her suit and
gloves were s almon pink, her favorite shade.
It would be well to say that Kyoko Hodaka did not love
Yuichi in the slightest. Her frivolous heart was exceedingly
pliant. In the lightness of her feelings there was an elegance
that fell short of any standard of purity. Once in the depth of her
heart a fairly sincere yearning for self-deception had suddenly

[ 2)4 ]
 The Seducer

flared up and then gone out, without any awareness on her part.
Kyoko had one resolve, one self-imposed, indispensable, easily
fulfilled duty : never to keep watch over her own heart. "I
haven't seen him for a month and a half," she said. "That seems
like a day. In that time I haven't thought of that man once."
One and a half months ! What in the world did Kyoko do with
herself? Countless dances. Countless movies. Tennis. Shopping.
All kinds of Foreign Office parties she had to attend with her
husband. The beauty parlor. Drives. A fantastic number of use­
less arguments about various loves and infidelities . Countless
notions and whims encountered in the course of keeping
house.
The oil landscape painting, for instance, that graced the wall
of the stairway landing had been moved during that time to the
wall of the entranceway. Then it was taken to the guest room.
Then she changed her mind and hung it again on the landing
where it had been originally. She rearranged the kitchen and
found fifty-three empty bottles. She sold them to the junkman
and with the money, supplemented by some of her pocket
money, bought a table lamp made from a cura�ao bottle. She
soon decided she didn't like that and gave it to a friend, receiv­
ing in exchange a bottle of Cointreau. Then the shepherd dog
she was raising got distemper. He frothed at the mouth, trem­
bled in all four legs, and without making a sound died with what
looked like a smile on his face. Kyoko cried for three hours ; the
next day she had forgotten it.
Her life was filled with immeasurable amounts of stylish rub­
bish. It had been like that since her girlhood, when she was
infected with a bug for collecting safety pins, and filled lacquer
boxes with safety pins large and small. The same kind of fever
that is referred to in poor women as being "the fever of their
existence" motivated the life of Kyoko. But if hers was an earnest
existence, it was marked by an e arnestness which did not in the
least stand in the way of p er frivolousness. An earnest existence
that knows no distress is apt to have trouble finding an outlet.
Like a butterfly that flits into a room and flutters madly about
when it can find no open windows , Kyoko, too, lived her restless
inner life. Not even the zaniest butterfly, however, is apt to
believe that the room into which it has flown is its own. Some­
times, indeed, exhausted butterflies collide with forests on
painted landscapes and fall unconscious.

[ 2ss ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

No one saw clearly the state of stupefaction into which Kyoko,

like that butterfly, would sometimes fall-a wide-eyed, confused
absence of mind. Her husband would think to himself only : It's
started again. Her friends and her cousins would think nothing
more than : She's in love again-for a half day, no more.

The phone rang in the club. It was the guard at the front
gate asking if he could give a man named Minami an entrance
pass. Before long Kyoko saw Yuichi walking through the pine
trees on the other side of the opening in the great stone wall.
In all her punctilious self-respect, she was content that the
youth had come on time to this deliberately conceived, out-of­
the-way meeting place. It gave her ample pretext to forgive him
for his neglect of her. However, she didn't venture to rise; she
bowed to him while holding five brightly painted fingernails
before her smiling face.
"It's only been a short time since I've seen you, but somehow
you've changed," she said, partly as an excuse for looking him
full in the face.
"How?"
"Hm-m. Something a little as if a wild animal has developed."
Yuichi laughed uproariously on hearing this. Kyoko saw in his
laughing mouth the white teeth of a carnivorous beast. Formerly
Yuichi had mystified her more ; he had seemed more docile, yet
lacking in conviction . Now, as he had come striding directly out
of the maple shade and into the sunlight, with his hair glistening,
and as he had stopped after about twenty paces and looked this
way, he had seemed like a lone young lion seething with fresh
energy, his eyes gleaming with youthful mistrust.
His beautiful eyes looked at Kyoko directly; they did not
waver. Their gaze was incomparably gentle, and at the same
time they rudely, tersely, told of his desire.
In the short time I h aven't seen him he's come a long way,
Kyoko thought. It must be the tutelage of Mrs. Kaburagi. But
now that things have gone sour between him and Mrs. Kaburagi,
and he's stopped working as her husband's private secretary
while she's gone off to Kyoto, I am going to reap the harvest of it
all.

[ 256 ]
 The Seducer

They couldn't hear the horns of the cars beyond the moat
across the stone wall. Allthey could hear was the sound of tennis
balls and rackets repeatedly striking each other. There were only
happy voices and shouts and quick laughter with labored breath.
These evaporated into the air and struck the ear only infre­
quently-languid, opaque sounds, seemingly covered with dust.
"Do you have anything to do today, Yuchan?"
"No, I'm free all day."
"Was there anything? With me that is?"
"Not really. I just wanted to see you."
"Aren't you sweet."
The two conferred and came up with the quite predictable
plan of going to a movie, then to dinner, then dancing. Before
that they would take a little walk, even though it was the long
way round, leaving the Imperial Palace at the Hirakawa gate.
The path went by the side of the Equestrian Club under the old
second circle and crossed a bridge behind the stables. Then it
ascended to the third circle where the library was, and arrived at
the Hirakawa gate.
When they started walking and were struck by the gentle
wind, Kyoko felt a certain feverishness in her cheeks. She wor­
ried for a moment that she was becoming ill. Really, though, it
was the spring.
The beautiful profile of the youth walking beside her fille d
Kyoko with pride. His arm every once in a while brushed lightly
against hers. The fact that her escort was beautiful was to her
the most direct and objective authentication of the fact that
together they made a beautiful couple. The reason Kyoko liked
Yuichi was that he gave her an overwhelming sense of safety
and security in her own beauty. With every step she took, a line
of salmon pink could be glimpsed within the unbuttoned free­
dom of her elegant, blue, princess-style coat, like a bright vein of
cinnabar.
Between the offices of the Equestrian Club and the stables,
the broad plaza had dried out. In one place dust danced faintly;
then it died away as the breeze dropped. The two started to
cross toward this visionary whirlwind, when they were met by
the noise of a procession c arrying flags diagonally across the
plaza. It was a procession made up entirely of old people from
the country. It was a group of gold-star relatives of men who

[ .Z J 7 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

had died in World War II, invited to a visit at the Imperial

Palace.
It was a slow-moving procession. Many of its members wore
getas and honest old-fashioned clothes, with old soft felt hats on
their heads. Bent old women , their necks thrust forward, seemed
as if they would lose the bath towels each wore rolled into a ball
protruding from an otherwise bare bosom. Even though it was
spring, from the collars of some, edges of raw cotton padding
stuck out; the glow of that countrified silkiness outlined the
wrinkles in their sunburned necks. All one could hear was the
sound of tired getas and zori grinding against the earth and of
false teeth clacking with each stride. With all their fatigue and
their pious joy the pilgrims were scarcely able to speak a
word.
Kyoko and Yuichi had much trouble passing them. Everyone
in the procession of old people looked toward the two of them.
Even people who were looking down sensed that something was
up and raised their eyes to look at the couple, with a gaze that
did not waver.
It was a look without the slightest shade of criticism, and at
the same time, of supreme openness. This multitude of eyes like
black stones stared cunningly and fixedly out of the wrinkles,
and the gummy secretions, and the tears, and the white cata­
racts, and the dirty veins. Yuichi involuntarily hastened his pace,
but Kyoko was unperturbed. She simply and accurately read the
truth. Surely it was her beauty alone that struck them.
The procession of pilgrims passed, slowly undulating in the
direction of the Imperial Household Agency.
They went along the side of the stables and entered a dark,
shaded path . They locked arms. Before their eyes there was a
slight rise, with an earthen bridge built in conformity with the
uphill slope. Ramparts surrounded the hill area. Near the sum­
mit there was a single cherry tree in the very center of a group
of pines.
A one-horse carriage reserved for court use came down the hill
and scuttled past the tWo pedestrians. The horse's mane fluttered
in the wind; the sixteen-petaled gold chrysanthemum passed
resplendently before their eyes . The two climbed the hill. From
the plateau of the old third circle they could look for the first
time at the panorama of the city on the other side of the stone
wall.

[ 2s8 ]
 The Seducer

With what freshness did the whole city come together to strike
the eye I The slippery comings and goings of the shining autos­
what animated life they bore I The businesslike afternoon
prosperity of Nishikicho across the moat ! The revolutions of the
countless anemometers on the meteorological station ! With what
loving exertion they lent their ears to the many winds passing
through the sky, offering them such channs l How indefatigably
they spun about!
The two went out through the Hirakawa gate. They had not
walked enough yet; so they strolled along the edge of the moat
for a time. As they did so, there in the very middle of this
aimless afternoon walk, in the very middle of the auto horns and
the earth-shaking rumble of trucks, Kyoko came to savor some­
thing close to a real sense of what life is.

In the Yuichi of that day there was certainly that "real

sense," strange though the phrase is. It was almost as if he were
convinced that he was impersonating the man he most wished to
be. This consciousness of beauty, this endowment with sub­
stance, as it were, was to Kyoko particularly essential. Until now
this beautiful youth had seemed to comprise only bits and pieces
of sexuality. His sharp brows, his deep set eyes, the marvelous
ridge of his nose, his artless lips, had always brought Kyoko joy,
but after the simple enumeration of these parts, there had been
the feeling that the most important thing was missing.
"You certainly don't look like a married man !" Kyoko opened
her innocently incredulous eyes as she burst out with this.
"Yes, somehow I feel like a bachelor." They looked at each
other and laughed at this rejoinder.
Kyoko never touched upon the subject of Mrs. Kaburagi, and
Yuichi too made it a point never to broach the subject of
Namiki, who had gone to Yokohama with them. This courtesy
helped them to get on well together, and the reflection in
Kyoko's mind that he had been jilted by Mrs. Kaburagi just as
she had been thrown over by Namiki served only to make her
feel closer to the youth.
At the risk of being prolix, however, it must be said that
Kyoko no longer loved Yuichi in the slightest. There was in this
meeting with him only an undiscriminating joy, a delight. She

[ 259 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

drifted. Her truly light heart drifted like a plant seed carried by
the wind, tufted with white thistledown. A seducer doesn't al­
ways go after a woman he loves. A woman like this, weighed
down by nothing spiritual, standing on tiptoe within herself, as
much a dreamer as she was a realist, was the ripest bait for the
seducer.
On this point :Mrs. Kaburagi and Kyoko were diametric oppo­
sites. Kyoko had the ability to ignore any kind of irrationality, to
close her eyes to any kind of absurdity, while never forgetting
her conviction that the party in question was in love with her.
Observing how gentle was Yuichi's attitude toward her, and how
he never flirted with another woman-in fact she was the only
one he seemed never to tire of looking at-Kyoko's reaction was
very much what one would expect. She was happy.

They had dinner at the M-- Club near Sukiyabashi.

This club, which had been raided by the police recently be­
cause of big-time gambling, was the gathering place for broken­
down expatriate Americans and Jews. Through World War II,
the occupation, and the Korean War, this group, accustomed to
scalping for profit, hid under their brand-new suits ( along with
sundry taHoos of roses and anchors and nude women and hearts
and black panther.s and capital letters on both anns and chest )
the mysterious smells of the countless ports of the various coun­
tries of Asia. Somewhere deep in their-at first glance-gentle
blue eyes, the memory of opium transactions gleamed, and the
lingering view of some harbor somewhere, fille d with myriad
shouts and a profusion of masts-Pusan, Mokpo, Dairen, Tient­
sin, Tsingtao, Shanghai, Keelung, Amoy, Hong Kong, Macao,
Hanoi, Haiphong, Manila, Singapore.
Even after they had returned to their home country, the entry
"Far East hand" remained, a single, mysterious, dark line in
black ink in their personal histories. For the rest of their lives
they could not escape · the tiny, ugly aura of glory that hovers
over men who have thrust their hands into exotic soil in search
of gold dust.
The decor of this night club was entirely Chinese ; Kyoko re­
gretted that she had not come in her Chinese dress. Of Japanese
guests there were only a few Shimbashi geisha who had been

[ 2 60 ]
 The Seducer

brought here by foreigners. The rest were all Westerners. On

Kyoko's and Yuichi's table a three-inch candle burned in a
frosted-glass cylinder on which a little green dragon had been
painted. In the pandemonium around it, the flame burned with
an uncanny quietness.
The two ate, drank, and danced. They were after all young
enough. Drunk with the feeling of closeness engendered by this
youthfulness, Kyoko forgot her husband. Even if she didn't have
this special provocation, it would have been no problem for her
to forget him. When she decided to close her eyes and forget
him, she could do it even though he was there in front of her.
For Yuichi, however, this was the :first time that he had ever
joyfully played the part of one in love. This was the first time he
had ever seen himself press against a woman in such masculine
fashion. Usually such behavior brought about an adverse reac­
tion in Kyoko and cooled her ardor, but this time she happened
to think that he was faithfully responding to her own mood of
exhilaration . When I stop liking a man, he always gets excited
about me, she thought to herself, without the slightest rancor.
The blood-red sloe gin fizz she had imbibed imparted a
drunken glide to Kyoko's dancing. She leaned against Yuichi, her
body lighter than a feather, feeling as if her feet barely touched
the floor as she danced. The basement dance floor was sur­
rounded by tables on three sides. Facing it in the dar-kness was
an orchestra stand with a scarlet drapery hung behind it. The
musicians played "Slow Poke," which was very popular. They
played "Blue Tango" and "Taboo." Yuichi, who had taken third
prize in that contest some time ago, danced well; his breast
pressed steadfastly against Kyoko's small, soft, padded bosom.
As for Kyoko, she looked across Yuichi's shoulder at the dark­
ened faces of the people at the tables and at the sprinkling of
heads of golden hair brightened at the edges by dim halos. At
tables here and there she saw the wavering little dragons, green,
yellow, red, blue, on the frosted-glass candle shades.
"You had a big dragon on your Chinese dress that time, didn't
you?" Yuichi said.
It was a coincidence that could h ave been born only from
emotions so close that they were almost identical. Kyoko was;
seized with the desire to keep this tiny secret to herself, so she·
did not confess that she, too, had been thinking about the:
dragon, and answered : "Yes, it was in a pattern of white satin;

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 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

you remember it well. Do you remember how we danced five

dances in a row ?"
"M-m-m, I was fascinated by your face with its little smile.
After that, when I saw women smile and compared theirs with
yours , they never satisfied me."
This flattery touched Kyoko deeply. She remembered how as a
child she had been continually and severely criticized by her
outspoken cousin for showing her gums when she smiled. After
that, she spent ten years in practice before a mirror, and learned
never to let her gums show. Now Kyoko showed extraordinary
confidence in the light, wavy motion of her smile.
A woman who is complimented feels , spiritually, something
familiar to prostitutes. Yuichi fell in with the easy-going be­
havior of the foreigners and took the opportunity to allow his
smiling lips to brush against Kyoko's lips.
Kyoko, though a giddy creature, was not a wanton. The
dance, the wine, and the influence of this expatriate-style club
were not equal to the task of making her romantic. She became
only a trifle too tender, and a little too tearfully sympathetic.
In the bottom of her heart she believed that the plight of all
men in the world was an unfortunate one. It was a religious
prejudice with her. The only thing she had managed to see in
Yuichi was his common everyday youthfulness. But since what
we call beauty is basically so far removed from originality, surely
there was nothing original to be found in this beautiful youth !
Trembling in sympathy, Kyoko felt like shedding conventional
tears at the loneliness of men, at the animal hungers and thirsts
of men, at all the shackles of desire that make man seem so
tragic.
This overwhelming emotion subsided, however, when they got
back to their seats. They said little. Seeming to be searching for
something to say, perhaps for an excuse to touch Kyoko's hand,
Yuichi took notice of her unusual wrist watch and asked if he
might look at it. The tiny dial was difficult to read in the gloom
even if one looked very closely. Kyoko took it off and handed it
to him. Yuichi then told her stories about various Swiss watch
companies, with a knowledge whose extent surprised her.
"What time is it now?" she asked.
Yuichi looked at the two watches and said : "Ten minutes to
ten; yours says a quarter to ten," and handed her watch back.

[ 262 J
 The Seducer

They would have to wait more than two hours for the floor show.
"Let's go somewhere else, shall we ? "
"Let's," she said, looking at her watch again. Her husband was
playing mah-jongg and wouldn't be back before midnight. It
would be all right if she returned about then.
Kyoko stood up. As she did so, a slight wavering showed her
intoxication. Yuichi noticed it and took her arm. Kyoko felt as if
she were walking on deep sand.

In the car Kyoko felt quite foolishly generous and brought

her lips very close to Yuichi's. In response, his lips displayed a
joyous, brutal power. The light of the tall neon signs coming
through the window onto her face cradled in his arms flowed
into the corners of her eyes . There was in all the rapidity of that
flow a current that did not move. The youth realized that it was
tears. She realized it, too, at about the same time, when she felt
the cold flow on her temple. Y�ichi touched it with his lips and
with his lips drank a woman's tears.
Kyoko's teeth shone dimly white in the unlighted interior of
the car; she called Yuichi's name over and over in an almost
inaudible voice. Then she closed her eyes. Her faintly moving
lips burned in anticipation of being held again suddenly by that
brutal power; then the anticipation became reality. The second
kiss, however, had in it the ease of something long settled. It was
not exactly what Kyoko had anticipated ; it gave her time to act
as if she had regained her composure. The woman sat up and
gently detached herself from Yuichi's arms.
Kyoko sat on the edge of the seat and, throwing back her
head, looked in the mirror she held aloft in one hand. Her eyes
were slightly red and wet, her hair somewhat mussed.
While she put her face in order she said : "If we keep this up, I
don't know what's going to happen . That's enough of that."
She stole a look at the stiff nape of the neck turned toward her
by the middle-aged driver. Her conventionally virtuous heart
saw in the back of that ancient blue suit the symbol of all society
turning its back.
At the night club in Tsukiji, owned by a foreigner, Kyoko
repeated, in words that were becoming habitual : "I have to go

[ 2 63 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

soon." This club was , in contrast t o the last Chinese-style place,

entirely of modem American construction. Kyoko kept suggest­
ing they go, and kept on drinking.
She went on thinking about one thing after another. As she
thought about each, she forgot what she was thinking about. As
she grew gay and danced, she felt as if she had roller skates
attached to the soles of her shoes. There in Yuichi's arms, it hurt
her to breathe. The quickened pulse of her intoxication commu­
nicated itself to Yuichi.
She looked at the American couples and soldiers as they
danced. Then she suddenly pulled her head back and looked
hard at Yuichi. She insistently asked him whether she was drunk.
She was very much relieved when he told her she was not. If she
was sober, she could still walk home to Akasaka, she thought.
They went back to their seats. She felt quite composed. Then
she was struck by vague doubts. She looked with dissatisfaction
at Yuichi, who had not embraced her so tightly as she had
wished. As she looked at him a dark joy burst its bonds inside
her and came welling up.
This heart of hers, still certain that she was not in love with
this beautiful youth, was fully aware. However, she realized that
she had never felt this same deep sense of surrender with any
other man. The compelling beat of the bass drum in the Western
music drove her into a state of rapture.
This feeling of receptiveness-that one must call almost a nat­
ural impulse-brought her heart close to a kind of universality.
That feeling, like evening coming over the moor, with long
shadows thrust out by thick undergrowth, hill and valley bathed
each in its own shadows-that feeling of wishing to be wrapped
in ecstasy and twilight-transfigured Kyoko. She thought she
s aw this young, manly head, moving against a pale backlighting,
merging with a shadow spread out like a pool above her. Her
inner feelings overflowed outward; inwardness impinged upon
things outside. Beset by the height of drunkenness, she shiv­
ered.
She believed, however, that she would sleep this evening in
the bosom of her husband.
"This is living I" her giddy heart exulted. "This is really living!
What thrills and what release I What a dangerous dream of ad­
venture ! What fulfillment for the imagination ! Tonight in the
taste of my husband's kisses I shall be reminded of the lips of
 The Seducer

this youth I What safe and at the same time supremely adulterous
joy ! I can stop there. That far I'm in control. As for anything
else, the best way . . . ."
Kyoko called one of the waiters in scarlet uniform with gold
buttons and asked him what time the floor show would start.
Midnight, he told her.
"We won't be able to see the show here. I'll have to leave at
eleven thirty. We still have forty minutes."
At her urging, Yuichi danced with her again. The music
stopped, and they went back to their table. The American band
leader grasped the microphone with tremendous fingers, on one
of which golden hair and a ring with a beryl glittered, and
introduced himself in English. The foreigners laughed and ap­
plauded.
The musicians brlilke into a fast rumba. The lights went off.
Lights glowed on the dressing room door. Then the catlike forms
of the rumba dancers, a man and a woman, glided out of the
half-open door.
Their silk costumes fluttered in great pleats . Countless tiny,
embroidered, round metal scales shimmered, green, gold, and
orange. The hips of the man and woman, shining in silk, were
like lizards in the grass. They drew together. Then they sepa­
rated.
Kyoko rested her elbows on the tablecloth, held her throbbing
temples with painted fingernails that seemed as if they would
penetrate into her head, and watched. The pain caused by the
fingernails was as pleasant as peppermint.
Suddenly she looked at her watch.
"We'll have to be getting-" She became concerned and held
the watch to her ear. "What happened? The show started an
hour early or something."
She was distinctly alarmed. She bent over and looked at the
wrist watch on Yuichi's left hand resting on the table.
"That's strange. Same time."
Kyoko watched the dancers again. She stared at the male
dancer, whose mouth was shaped in a sneer. She was trying with
all her might to think of something. The music and the tapping
of feet, however, interfered. She stood up, not knowing why. She
s taggered as she walked holding onto tables. Yuichi stood up
and went with her. She stopped one of the waiters and asked
him : "What time is it?"

[ 2 65 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

"Ten after twelve, ma'am."

Kyoko brought her face up close to Yuichi's and said : "You set
the watches back, didn't you ?"
A mischievous smile floated at the comers of Yuichi's mouth :
"Uh-huh ."
Kyoko was not angry : "I can still make it. I must go."
Yuichi's face became more serious : "Must you ?"
"Yes, I'm going."
At the checkroom she said, "My, I'm really tired today. I
played tennis, walked, danced . . . "
Holding up her h air in back, Kyoko slipped into the coat
Yuichi was holding. Once she had the coat on she tossed her h air
again broadly and gently. Her agate earrings, of the s ame color
as her clothing, waved wildly.
Kyoko pulled herself together. In the cab with Yuichi she took
the initiative and gave the driver the location of her house
in Akasaka. While the cab was on its way, she recalled the
streetwalkers spreading their nets to catch foreigners at the door
of the club. She thought about it confusedly.
Oh, my. That awful green suit l That painted brunette ! That
flat nose I To make matters worse, honest women can't smoke
cigarettes as if they enjoy them like that. How good those ciga­
rettes seemed to be I
The cab came closer to Akasaka. "Tum left there, please.
That's right. Straight ahead," she s aid.
At that point, Yuichi, who had been silent, pinioned her arms
forcefully and, burying his face in her h air, kissed the back of
her neck. Kyoko could smell again the scent of the same pomade
that had perfumed her dreams so many times.
"Now, at a time like this, I wish I could smoke," she said to
herself. "That would be really stylish."
Kyoko's eyes were open. She looked at the lights outside the
window; she looked at the cloudy night sky. Suddenly she had
the strange power to see everything as worthless. Another day
was ending without incident. Only capricious, dispirited memo­
ries-lackadaisical, intermittent, and perhaps based on nothing
other than weakness of imagination-would be left. Only the
daily routine of life, assuming some strange, blood-curdling
shape, would be left. Her fingertips rubbed against the young
man's fresh-sh aven nape. In the roughness and wannth of his
skin there was a startling sensation.

[ 266 ]
 The Seducer

Kyoko closed her eyes. The shaking of the cab made one fancy
that the wretched road ran endlessly over a succession of ruts .
She opened her eyes and whispered in Yuichi's ear with an all­
surpassing gentleness : "All right, you win. We passed my house
long ago."
Yuichi's eyes gleamed with joy. "To Yanagibashi," he said
quickly to the driver. Kyoko heard the squeal of the wheels
making a U-turn. It might best be called a regretfully joyful
squeal.

This imprudent decision had tired Kyoko considerably.

Her fatigue and her drunkenness spun together about her. She
had to struggle to keep from falling asleep. She used Yuichi's
shoulder as a pillow and, out of the necessity of forcing herself
to feel charming, she imagined she was a linnet or some such
small bird closing her eyes.
At the entrance of an avec hotel bearing the name "Kichijo,"
she said : "How do you know about such places as this, darling?"
As she said it, she felt a numbness in her legs. She walked
down the halls through which the maid conducted them with
her face hidden against Yuichi's back. They went along an end­
lessly long zigzag hall and up a staircase that suddenly towered
around a corner. The cold of the night hallways against stock­
inged feet made her head ring. She could barely stand. She
wished they would get to the room where she could crumple
into a sitting posture.
When they got to the room, Yuichi said : "We can see the
Sumida River. That building over there is a beer company ware­
house."
Kyoko didn't dare to look at the riverscape. She wanted only
that everything be done with as quickly as possible.

Kyoko Hodaka woke up in complete darkness.

She could see nothing. The storm shutters had been drawn
over the windows. Not a crack of light filtered through any­
where. Her bare bosom was cold, making her think the weather
was getting colder. She groped about and drew together the
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

collar o f her well-starched hotel nightrobe. She reached her hand

down. She was wearing nothing under the robe. She could not
recall when last she had taken off every stitch. She could not
recall when she had put on this stiff robe.
That was it ! This room adjoined the room with the river view.
She had surely come in here before Yuichi and undressed her­
self. Yuichi at that time had been on the other side of the parti­
tion. Mter a time, all the lights had been extinguished in the
other room. Yuichi came from the dark room into the darker
room. Kyoko kept her eyes closed tight. Then everything began
marvelously and ended in dreams. Everything ended with in­
disputable perfection.
What happened after the lights in the room went out-and
Yuichi's image-fille d Kyoko's thoughts as she lay with her eyes
closed. Even now she did not have the courage to touch the real
Yuichi. His form was the incarnation of joy. In it were indescrib­
ably blended greenness and wisdom, youth and mastery, love
and scorn, piety and sacrilege. Even now not the slightest re­
sentment or guilt sufficed to dull Kyoko's joy; even her slight
hangover could not alter it. Mter a time, her hand searched for
Yuichi's hand.
Her hand touched that hand. It was cold. The bones pro­
truded. It was dry like tree bark. The veins were hollow bulges
and pulsed faintly. Kyoko shuddered and released the hand.
He coughed suddenly in the darkness. It was a long, gloom­
enshrouded cough. It was a painful cough, dragging a tangled,
muddy tail. It was a cough like death. Kyoko was touched by
that cold dry arm and almost screamed. She felt as if she were
sleeping with a skeleton.
She got up and felt about for the lamp that should have been
by the pillows. Her fingers slipped fruitlessly about on the cold
tatami. There was a lamp with a Japanese-lantern shade far
from the pillows in one comer. She lit the lamp and discovered,
resting on the pillow next to her vacant one, the face of an old
man.
Shunsuke's cough, dragging tail and all, had stopped. He
raised his eyes as if dazzled. He said : "Shut it off, won't you ? It's
too bright." As he finished speaking, he closed his eyes again and
turned his face away from the light.
Kyoko couldn't figure it all out ; she stood up. She passed in
back of Shunsuke's pillow and searched out her clothes in the

[ 268 ]
 The Seducer

gannent box. Until the woman had put on her clothes, the old
man lay silent, cunningly feigning sleep.
When she showed signs of leaving, he said : "Are you going?"
The woman said nothing and started out.
"Wait, huh?"
Shunsuke got up.
He started to throw his padded dressing gown over his shoul­
ders to stop the woman. Kyoko stopped, but showed every inten­
tion of leaving immediately.
"Wait, please. It's too late to go now."
''I'm going. I'll scream if you stop me."
"Go ahead. You don't have the courage to scream."
Kyoko asked with her voice shaking : "Where is Yuchan?"
"He went horne long ago. He's now probably sleeping snug as
a bug beside his '\vife."
"Why have you done this? What have I done? What do you
have against me? What do you hope to achieve? Have I done
anything you hate me for?"
Shunsuke did not answer. He turned on the light in the room
with the view of the river. Kyoko sat down as if struck by that
ray of light.
"You don't blame Yuichi at all, do you?"
"How do I know? I don't even know what's going on."
Kyoko stretched out and burst into tears. Shunsuke let her cry.
It was impossible to explain all, even if Shunsuke understood
everything. Kyoko did not deserve this much humiliation.
He waited for the woman to compose herself and then said :
"For a long time I was in love with you, but you turned me
down and laughed at me. Even you must admit that I could not
have brought this about by ordinary means."
"Why did Yuchan do this?"
"He likes you in his own unique way."'
"You two were in cahoots , weren't you?"
"Not at all. I wrote the synopsis. Yuichi just lent a hand."
"Oh, how ugly-"
"What's ugly? You wanted something beautiful and you got it.
I wanted something beautiful, too, and I got it; that's all. Isn't
that right? We're in the same line. When you talk about things
being ugly, you're falling into self-contradiction."
"I don't know whether I'm going to die or have you ar­
rested."
 FORBIDDEN C O L O R S

"Terrific ! I f you can give out with words like those, we've
made a lot of progress in one night. But please try to be more
frank. The humiliation and the ugliness you're thinking about
are allimaginary. For surely we've seen something beautiful. It's
certain that we have, the two of us, seen something of the qual­
ity of a rainbow."
"Why isn't Yuchan here?"
"Yuichi isn't here. He was here until a while ago, but he's not
here any more. There's nothing mysterious about that. We
have beeri left together, no one else."
Kyoko shuddered. This approach to existence was beyond her
powers of comprehension. Shunsuke went on unconcernedly.
"It's over, and we are left behind. Even though Yuichi went to
bed with you, the result is six of one and half a dozen of an­
other."
"This is the first time in my life I have ever seen people so
despicable as you two."
"Now come, come. Why do you say 'you two'? Yuichi is inno­
cent. Today, for this one day, three people have done what they
desired , that's all. Yuichi loved you in his fashion ; you loved him
in your fashion ; I loved you in my fashion, that's all. Everybody
loves in his own fashion; there's no other way, is there?"
"I can't figure out what Yuichi has in mind. That fellow is a
spook I"
"You're a spook. Mter all, you loved a spook. But Yuichi
doesn't hold the slightest particle of ill will toward you."
"How could he do such a horrible thing to a person he didn't
hold any ill will toward?"
"Briefly, he knew full well you had done nothing to deserve
this. Between a man bearing no ill will and a guiltless woman­
who have not a thing to share with each other-if there is any­
thing that might tie them together, it is ill will from the outside,
guilt brought m from the outside, that's all. In all the old tales
that's the very way it happens. As you know, I am a novelist."
Seized with the outright ridiculousness of it, he started to laugh
by himself but then stopped.
"Yuichi and I weren't in cahoots or anything. That's a figment
of your imagination. We simply had no connection. Yuichi and
I-well-" He smiled slowly. "We're just friends. If you must
hate someone, hate me, to your heart's content."
"But-" Kyoko twisted her body modestly as she cried : "I

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 The Seducer

don't have any room for hate; right now I'm just horrified."
The whistle of a freight train crossing the nearby iron bridge
reverberated in the night. It was an endless, monotonous, stum­
bling repetition. Mter a time, from the other side of the bridge it
had just crossed, the train flashed a long whistle and then was
silent.
Truthfully, the one who really saw the "ugliness" was not
Kyoko but Shunsuke. Even in the moment the woman raised her
moan of pleasure, he did not forget his own ugliness.
Shunsuke Hinoki had known many times this awful moment
in which the existence of something unloved intrudes upon an
existence that is loved. Woman subjugated-that is a supersti­
tion created by novels ! Woman can never be subjugated. Never !
Just as there are occasions in which men out of their reverence
for women attempt to humiliate them, there are occasions in
which women as a manifestation of supreme contempt give their
bodies to men. Mrs. Kaburagi, of course, as well as every one of
his three wives, had never once been conquered. Kyoko, an­
esthetized into giving her body to a vision of Yuichi, was no
different-incontrovertibly. If one needs reasons, there is only
one. It was because Shunsuke himself was convinced that no one
could love him.
These were strange intimacies. Shunsuke tortured Kyoko. He
ruled now by a terrible power. But it added up to nothing more
than the machinations of a person who was not loved. The con­
duct of Shunsuke, who from the beginning had had no hope,
was marked by not the slightest mercy, by nothing of what
society calls humanity.
Kyoko was silent. She was sitting straight up, without making
a sound. To this flighty female, such a long period of silence was
something that had never occurred before. Once she had learned
this quietness, perhaps it would become the way she naturally
comported herself. Shunsuke, too, kept his mouth closed. They
seemed to believe they could go on here until dawn without
saying a word. When night came to an end she would take the
little tools out of her bag, make herself up, and return to her
husband's house. It would be a long time, though , until the river
whitened; the two people suspected this night would go on for­
ever.

( 27 I ]
 CHAPTER 23

DAYS O F RIPENING

HER H USBAND'S B USY LIFE, with its unknown motives,

went on. When she thought he was at school, he would return
home in the middle of the night; when she thought he was
staying home, he would suddenly go out. Even though Yuichi
was pursuing the daily existence of a "ne'er-do-well," as his
mother called him , Yasuko's life was now truly serene, one might
say almost happy. There were reasons for her peace. She was
oblivious to everything but what was going on inside her.
The comings and goings of spring excited in her not the slight­
est concern. Things outside her had no power. The sensation of
little legs kicking within her, the sensation of nourishing tiny
violence-it was all a continuing drunkenness that had started
with her and would end 'vith her. The so-called external world
was possessed by her inner world ; she embraced the world in­
side herself. The external world was simply superfluous.
When she imagined the small shiny ankles, and the small
shiny soles covered with clean tiny wrinkles, thrust out of the
deep night and kicking the darkness, she felt that her own exist­
ence had become nothing but the warm, blood-smeared, nour­
ishing darkness itself. The feeling that she was being consumed,
the feeling that her insides were being deeply violated, the feel­
ing she was ill-above all, the feeling she was being deeply
ravished : whatever the immoral desires or the indulgent sensa­
tions, they were ostentatiously pardoned there. Yasuko wore a
smile of her very own, sent as from afar. Sometimes she laughed
a transparent laugh; sometimes she did not laugh at all. Her

[ 212 ]
 Days of Ripening

smile was quite like a blind man's smile, a smile barely alight on
the face of a person straining his ears for a distant sound that
only he could hear.
If for just one day the child inside her did not move, her
anxiety was more than she could stand. Surely it was dead! It
pleased her sweet mother-in-law considerably to be told of these
childish fears and to be importuned into detailed consulta­
tions.
"It figures; Yuichi, too, is a boy who doesn't let his feelings
come to the surface," she said to her daughter-in-law, with a
comforting look on her face. "That must be why he goes out
drinking. This baby coming must have him all mixed up, what
with the joy of it and the anxiety of it."
"No, I don't think so," said Yasuko with conviction. For this
self-sufficient spirit, comfort was unnecessary. "Instead of that,
what bothers me most is not knowing yet whether the child I'm
carrying is a girl or a boy. What if I've pretty much decided that
it's a boy, and am thinking of a child the image of Yuchan; what
will I do if a girl just like me is born?"
"Oh, my! I'm hoping for a girl. I've had my fill of boys. Noth­
ing is that hard to raise."
Thus the two got along swimmingly. When Yasuko had things
to do that would have taken her out of the house in all her
embarrassing physical unshapeliness, her mother-in-law gladly
went instead. But when this woman with her kidney ailment
presented herself, escorted by Kiyo, the maid, few met her with­
out rounding their eyes in surprise.
On one such day Yasuko, left home to mind the house, went
into the garden for exercise. She walked around the backyard
flower bed, only about four hundred yards in area, which was
mostly kept up by the hard work of Kiyo. She held a pair of
scissors, planning to cut some flowers for the living room.
Azaleas rimmed the garden, blooming at their best. Seasonal
flowers-pansy, sweet pea, nasturtium, Rodger's bronze leaf. and
hornwort-romantic flowers all, were blooming. She wondered
which to cut. Actually, she wasn't very much concerned about
the flowers. The luxury of choice, the ease of acquiring which­
ever she selected, the beauty of them all-what did it matter?
She hesitated, clicking the scissors. The blades were a little rusty,
and they resisted in her fingers with a slightly gritty sound.

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 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

Suddenly it occurred to her that she was thinking of Yuichi, a

reflection that threw doubt into her mind about her maternal
instincts. But was this not, after all, Yuichi? This lovely creature
shut up inside her, that expressed such outright self-indulgen­
cies, that however much violence it dealt would not be expelled
until the appointed time-was it not, after all, he? Fearful that
she might become discouraged when she saw the baby, she went
so far as to think that this confining pregnancy might go on for
years and she would not care.
Unconsciously she cut the stem of the light purple Rodger's
bronze leaf in front of her. Left in her hand was a single blossom
on a stem about the length of her finger. "Now why did I cut
such a short one ? " she asked herself.
"Pure heart ! Pure heart !" The words sounded empty and
awkward. Yasuko was acu tely aware in her mind's eye as to how
greatly she had matured. What in the world is a purity that is
close to a desire for vengeance ? Hasn't it always given me plea­
sure to look into my husband's eyes with my special look of
purity and then wait for his expression of guilt and embarrass­
ment? All the various pleasures she anticipated her husband
would not give her-and for that reason even the concealment
of the purity of her heart-these things she wished to think of as
her "love."
That serene hairline, however, those lovely eyes, the delicacy
of the elaborate tracery between her mouth and nose, were al­
most noble, owing to a slightly anemic skin color. The loose
garment she had specially made to hide the shape of the lower
half of her body fit remarkably well in its classic pleats. Her lips
were dry in the wind, and she moistened them frequently with
her tongue. The charm of her lips was thus enhanced consider­
ably.
Yuichi, returning home from school, came up the path in back
of the house and happened to approach by way of the garden
gate. The gate usually set the bell ringing wildly when it was
opened. Before the bell rang, however, he had held the gate
with his hand and slipped into the garden. He stood in the
shadow of the row of pasania trees and watched his wife. He did
it purely and innocently out of mischief.
"From here, now," he said sadly in his heart, "from here , now,
I can really love my wife. Distance gives me freedom. When I
cannot reach her, when I can simply look at her, how beautiful

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 Days of Ripening

Yasuko is. The pleats in her dress, her hair, her look-how pure
it all is. If only I could keep this distance !"
At that moment , however, Yasuko saw the brown leather brief
case peeping behind a trunk in the shade. She called Yuichi's
name. It was a shout like that uttered by a person about to
drown. He stepped into the open and she hurried in his direc­
tion. Her skirt caught on the low, bent bamboo palings of the
flower garden. She stumbled and fell on the slippery earth .
Yuichi closed his eyes as a nameless fear struck him. He ran to
his wife and helped her up. Her skirt had been muddied by the
red earth, no more ; she did not have a scratch.
Yasuko breathed heavily.
"You11 be all right, won't you?" Yuichi said fearfully. Having
s aid this, he recognized that the fear he felt when Yasuko fell
was related to a certain wish, and he shuddered.
As he spoke , Yasuko went white. Until he helped her up her
mind was engrossed with Yuichi. She had not thought of the
child.
Yuichi put Yasuko to bed and phoned the doctor. When his
mother returned shortly with Kiyo and saw the doctor, she was,
oddly enough, not concerned. As she listened to Yuichi's story,
she told him that during her own pregnancy she had fallen
downstairs two or three steps and nothing had happened.
"Are you really not worried?" Yuichi could not keep from
asking.
"I suppose it's natural that you'd be worried," his mother said
with a smile.
Yuichi flinched, as if she had seen through his dire wish .
"The body of a woman," his mother said, as if she were lectur­
ing, "is, for all its seeming fragility, surprisingly strong. When
she took that little tumble, the baby in her belly probably felt it
was going down a slide and enjoyed it. A man, on the other
hand, is brittle. No one thought your father's health would break
down as it did."
The doctor left, saying that Yasuko was probably all right but
they would have to wait for developments, but Yuichi did not
leave his wife's side. When a phone call came from Kawada,
Yuichi told Kiyo to say he was not home. Yasuko's eyes over­
flowed with gratitude ; the youth could not help feeling satisfac­
tion that he had come to grips with something serious .
The next day the fetus again kicked his mother's insides vig-

[ 275 J
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

orously, almost arrogantly. The whole family was greatly re­

lieved. Yasuko did not doubt that such proud strength of foot
belonged to a boy baby.
Yuichi could no longer keep his deep-felt joy to himself. He
told Kawada of the episode. On the haughty face of the listening
businessman in the early stages of decrepitude, jealousy swam.
 CHAPTER 24

DIAL O G UE

TWO MONTHS WENT BY. It was the rainy season. Shunsuke,

on his way to a meeting in Kamakura, went up to the Yokosuka
Line platform in Tokyo Station and discovered Yuichi standing
with both hands thrust into his raincoat pockets, a perplexed
look on his face.
With Yuichi were two rakishly dressed boys. One, in a blue
shirt, held Yuichi's arm. The other, in a red shirt with sleeves
rolled up, faced Yuichi with his arms folded. Shunsuke stepped
behind them and listened to their conversation from the conceal­
ment of a pillar.
"Yuchan, if you're not going to break up with this guy, kill me
right here."
"Stop that plain nonsense," the boy in the blue shirt inter­
jected. "Yuichi and I are never going to break up. You, as far as
Yuichi is concerned, are just a little cupcake he ate. And that's
what you look like, a cheap little, sweet little, icky little cup­
cake."
"Cut it out or I'll kill you.''
Yuichi pulled his arm from Blue Shirt's grasp. Then he said in
an older, more composed tone : "Won't you cut it out? Later on
11l listen to all you've got to say. It doesn't look right in a place
like this." He turned to Blue Shirt and added : "You're acting too
much like a wife I"
Blue Shirt lost his temper : "All right, come on outside. I want
to talk to you."
The red-shirted boy smiled, showing his beautiful white teeth :

[ 277 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

"You nut, you. You are outside. See? Everybody's going by with
hats and shoes on."
Things were getting out of hand, so Shunsuke circled about
and approached so that Yuichi faced him. The look with which
they met was quite natural. Yuichi bowed with a smile that
indicated he had been rescued. It had been a long time since
Shunsuke had seen on his face such a beautiful smile full of
brotherly affection.
Shunsuke was dressed in well-tailored tweeds ; he wore a natty
brown checkered handkerchief in his breast pocket. When the
ceremonious and highly theatrical greetings between him and
Yuichi began, the two boys watched with blank looks. One of
them said, with all the charm he could inject into his glance,
"Well, Yuchan, I'll be seeing you." The other turned his back
without saying a word. Both then disappeared. The yellowish
Yokosuka Line train thundered in beside the platform.
"You make dangerous associations, don't you?" Shunsuke said,
going toward the train.
"You're one of my associations, aren't you, sir?" Yuichi re­
plied.
"But he was talking about killing or something."
"So you heard. Those guys always talk that way. You can't get
up a fight between cowards. Besides, those two snapping and
snarling fellows are having an affair."
"Affa ir?"
"When I'm not around, they sleep with each other."
The two seated themselves facing each other in the second­
class coach . The train picked up speed. Neither inquired about
the other's destination. They looked wordlessly out of the window
for a time. The landscape along the railroad touched Yuichi's
heart.
They passed wet, ill-humored blocks of gray buildings which
were followed by cloudy, black factory landscapes. Across a
swamp and a wasted, narrow meadow stood a glass-walled fac­
tory. Several panes of glass were broken; in the dark, sooty,
hollow interior, naked light bulbs could be seen scattered about,
weakly shining in the daylight. Then they passed an old wooden
elementary school, built on fairly high ground. The U-shaped
building looked in their direction out of lifeless windows. In the
rain-soaked, vacant schoolyard stood a set of Swedish wall bars
with the whitewash peeling. Then endless billboards-Takara
 Dialogue

Ale, Lion Toothpaste, Plastics, Morinaga Caramels.

It had grown wann, so the youth took off his coat. His new
suit, his shirt, his necktie, his tie pin, his handkerchief, even his
wrist watch were the utmost in luxury. They were combined
with inconspicuous harmony. Not only these, but also the new
Dunhill lighter he took from his pocket, as well as his cigarette
case, were elegantly attractive. Altogether they reflected Ka­
wada's taste, Shunsuke thought.
"Where are you going to meet Mr. Kawada?" Shunsuke asked
sarcastically. The youth suddenly shifted his attention from the
lighter flame which he was applying to his cigarette and stared
at the old man. The tiny blue flame didn't flare up; it hung
spectrally in mid-air.
"How do you know?"
''I'm a novelist."
"You surprised me. He's waiting for me at the Kofuen, in
Kamakura."
"Is that right? I've got a meeting in Kamakura, too."
The two were silent awhile. Yuichi became conscious that
something distinctly red was cutting unexpectedly across the
dark field of his vision. He looked and saw that they were pass­
ing by the framework of an iron bridge being repainted. The
undercoat was red.
Suddenly Shunsuke said : "Do you love Kawada, or what?"
Yuichi lifted his shoulders high : "You're joking."
"Why are you going to meet someone you don't love? ..
"Aren't you the one, sir, who encouraged me to marry a
woman I didn't love?"
"A woman and a man are two different things."
"Ha l They're the same thing. They're both horny, and they're
both a bore."
"Kofuen-that's a fine, luxurious inn, but-"
"But?"
"In the old days, son, the big businessmen used to take geisha
there from Shimbashi and Akasaka."
The youth, seemingly hurt, was silent.
Shunsuke did not understand. He did not know how terribly
bored the youth always was; and what kept this Narcissus from
being bored even more was the fact that this world was filled
with nothing but mirrors ; in the prison of the mirror this beauti­
ful captive could be held for the rest of his life. The aging

[ 219 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

Kawada at least knew how to transform himself into the mir­

ror.
Yuichi said : "I haven't seen you since then. How was Kyoko?
You told me on the phone it went very well." He smiled, but he
did not recognize that his smile was a carbon copy of Shunsuke's.
"Everything turns out so well-Yasuko, Mrs. Kabur.agi, Kyoko.
How about it? I'm always faithful to you."
"If you're faithful why are you never home to me?" Sbunsuke
said, with an indignation be could not suppress. He did his best
to keep his complaint offhand : "In two months I've talked to you
on the phone just two or three times, haven't I? On top of that,
whenever I suggest we meet, you hem and haw."
"I felt if you bad some business with me, you'd write me a
letter."
"I almost never write letters."
Two or three stations bad gone by. On the wet platform where
there was no roof stood the lone sign bearing the name of the
station . In the dark congestion on the platform under the roof
were the great numbers of blank faces and the great numbers of
umbrellas; the workmen clothed in wet blue serge looked up
toward the windows of the train from the tracks below-some­
bow these ordinary scenes deepened the silence of the two men
inside.
Soon Yuichi, drawing his body away, repeated : "How was
Kyoko?"
"Kyoko? How must I say it? I didn't have the slightest feeling
that I'd got what I wanted. When , there in the darkness, I took
your place and got into that woman's bed, and when that
drunken woman, with her eyes still closed, c alled me Yucban, I
really felt a sense of rejuvenation moving within me. It was just
a short time, but I took on the guise of your youth. That's all.
When Kyoko woke up, she never let out another peep until
morning. Since then I haven't beard anything from her. As far as
I c an see, that woman is apt to go downhill after this affair. In a
way, I feel sorry for her. She's not a woman who needed some­
thing like that done to her."
Yuichi felt no twinge of conscience whatsoever. It was an
action without object, without impulse from which regret could
come. In his memory his action was pristinely pure. That action,
governed by neither desire nor grudge; that action, possessed of
not a scintilla of malice-it ruled over a fixed period of time

[ 28o ]
 Dialogue

which would not come again. It went from one pure point to
another pure point.
Perhaps at no other time was there a time that Yuichi fulfilled
so completely his role as a product of Shunsuke's art, freed of all
moral considerations. Kyoko was thus not really taken in by him.
The aged man lying beside her when she awakened was the
same character as the beautiful young presence that had been at
her side since the daylight hours.
For the visions, the fascinations, provoked by the work he had
himself created, the author naturally had no responsibility.
Yuichi represented the exterior of the work-the body, the
dreaminess, the unfeeling coldness of intoxicating wine. Shun­
suke represented the interior of the work-the moody planning,
the formless desire, the fulfilled lust of the action calle d creation.
That combined character, however, participating in the same
work, was reflected in the eyes of the woman as nothing less
than two different men.
There aren't many memories so completely miraculous as that
one, thought the youth, as he turned his eyes to gaze at the scene
outside the window, wrapped in fine rain. Though I was infi­
nitely removed from the meaning of the action, I was close to
the superlatively pure form of the action. I did not move, yet I
cornered the prey. I did not covet the object, yet the object
turned into the form that I coveted. I did not shoot, yet the rare
prize was wounded by my missile and felled.
Thus at that time, from day to dark, pristinely pure, without
flaw, I was spared the moral duties imposed by events of the
past that nagged at me. If that evening I wished to devote
myself to the pure desire of carrying a woman to bed, that was
fine.
That memory, however, is unpleasant to me, thought Shun­
suke. Even in that moment I could not believe that my interior
beauty was consonant with Yuichi's exterior beauty. Socrates•
prayer to the various gods of the place on that summer morning
when he lay under the plane tree on the bank of the Ilissus
River, chatting with the beautiful boy Phaedrus until the day
cooled, seems to me the highest teaching on e arth : "Pan, first,
and all the gods that dwell in this place, grant that I may be­
come fair within, and that such outward things as I have may be
at peace with the spirit within me."
The Greeks had the rare power to look at internal beauty as if

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 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

it were hewn from marble. Spirit was badly corrupted in later

times, exalted through the action of lustless love , and smirched
through the action of lustless loathing. Beautiful young Alci­
biades, drawn by the internal, love-lust wisdom of Socrates, was
so aroused by the prospect of being passionately loved by that
man as ugly as Silenus that he crept in with him and slept under
the same mantle. When I read the beautiful words of Alcibiades
in "The Drinking Party" dialogue, they almost bowled me over :
"It would be embarrassing to tell men of intelligence that I did
not give my body to someone like you-even more embarrassing
than to admit to the uncultured multitude that I had surren­
dered to you. Much more I"
He lifted his eyes. Yuichi was not looking his way. The young
man was immersed in something very small and inconsequen­
tial. In the rain-soaked backyard of a lone little house by the
tracks, a housewife was squatting, assiduously starting a fire in
a charcoal burner. The busy motion of her white fan and the
tiny red draft vent were visible. What is life ? Perhaps it is a rid­
dle that does not have to be solved, Yuichi thought.
"Does Mrs. Kaburagi write you?" Shunsuke said, abruptly
again.
"Once a week, great long ones," said Yuichi, smiling faintly.
"The letters of husband and wife always come in the same en­
velope. The husband writes one page, at most two. They're both
astonishingly free, telling me they love me and things like that.
In the wife's letter the other day, there was this masterpiece of a
line : 'The memory of you makes us happy with each other.' "
"An odd couple, aren't they?"
"Married couples are all odd," Yuichi said, childishly.
"Mr. Kaburagi seems to be bearing his job in the Forestry
Bureau, eh ?"
"His wife just started as an automobile broker. That way
they'll get along somehow.''
"Is that right? That girl will do it very well, too. And by the
way, Yasuko is due this month, isn't she?"
"Yes.''
"You're going to be a father. That's funny.''
Yuichi did not smile. He was looking at the tightly shut ware­
houses of a shipping agency along the canal. He saw the rain­
soaked jetty and the new wood color of two or three boats tied

[ 2 82 ]
 Dialogue

to it. The name of the company in white letters on a rusty

warehouse door imparted a vague feeling of expectation to this
unmoving waterfront. Was that something coming out of the
distant seascape in this direction, disturbing the sad reflection of
the warehouses in the stagnant water?
"Are you scared?" The bantering tone intruded upon the
youth's proud complacency.
"No, I'm not scared."
"You're scared."
"What am I scared of?''
"Plenty. If you're not scared, stand by Yasuko during the de­
livery. That will show you what your fear consists of. But you
can't. Because, as everybody knows, you love your wife."
"What are you trying to tell me, sir?"
"A year ago you got married , as I told you to. You now must
gather the fruits of the fear you conquered back then. The oath
you swore when you were married, the one about self-deception
-are you keeping that now? Can you really torture Yasuko
without torturing yourself? Aren't you confusing Yasuko's pain
with that you have felt and seen in yourself all the tim e ? Are you
suffering under the delusion that that is married love? "
"You know everything, don't you? Have you forgotten that
some time ago you were so good as to discuss an abortion with
me?"
"Have I forgotten it? I was dead set against it."
"Right. So I did what you told me to do."
The train drew into Ofuna. The two saw the nape of the neck
of the tall, downward-looking statue of Kwannon between the
mountains facing the station. It dominated the smoky green of
the trees as it stood out against the slate-colored sky. The station
was deserted.
When the train started, Shunsuke spoke rapidly, as if he
wished to get everything said in the short time it would take to
get to Kamakura, two stations away.
"You don't think you would like to make sure of your inno­
cence with your own eyes ? You don't think you would like to
make sure with your own eyes that your uneasiness, your fear
and your pain, whatever it is, are without basis? I don't think
you can do it. If you could, perhaps a new life would have to
begin for you, and that would be too tough."
 F O R B ID D EN C O L O R S

The youth laughed nasally : "New life, you say?" H e carefully

lifted the sharp creases in his trousers with one hand and
crossed his legs.
"How would I go about seeing with my own eyes?"
"Just stay beside Yasuko during her delivery."
"How stupid !"
"It's too difficult for you ."
Shunsuke had struck upon Yuichi's repugnance. He stared in­
tently, as if at prey wounded by an arrow. Around the youth's
lips a mock-sardonic, bewildered, unhappy smile of chagrin
momentarily drifted.
Whereas other people are embarrassed about their joy, in this
marriage the repugnance was embarrassing. Shunsuke was al­
ways delighted to look at the young couple and find ever that
relationship, ever the unloved existence of Yasuko.
But Yuichi had to come face to face with that repugnance.
Was not that very repugnance what he thought he had been
s avoring until this time? In Yasuko, in Count Kaburagi, in Mrs.
Kaburagi, in Kyoko, in Kawada?
Still, within the preceptorial kindness with which he pressed
this delicious repugnance upon Yuichi, Shunsuke hid his never­
to-be-requited love. Something had to come to an end. At the
same time, something had to begin.
Perhaps Yuichi would be cured of his repugnance. Shunsuke,
too . . .
"At any rate, I'll do as I please. Nobody is going to give me
orders ."
"Fine. That's fine."
The train approached Kamakura Station. When he got off the
train Yuichi would go to where Kawada was. Shunsuke was
!;truck by conflicting emotions. However, his words belied his
feelings as he said coldly : "Just the same, you can't do it."
 CHAPTER 2 j'

T UR N A B O U T

�·, •
--------
a

SHUNSUKE'S WORDS rankled long in imcni's neart. The

more he tried to forget them, the more obstinately those words
confronted him.
The spring rains had not let up at all, and the time for Ya·
suko's delivery was late. It was now four days after the expected
date. She had made excellent early progress, but now the last
stages of her pregnancy were showing symptoms that caused
concern.
Her blood pressure was over 150; a slight edema was visible in
her legs. High blood pressure and edema in pregnancy are
common prodromal symptoms of toxicity. In the afternoon . of
June thirtieth, the first labor pains started. In the middle of 'the
night on July first, they came every fifteen minutes. Her blood
pressure reached Igo. To make matters worse, the doctor feared
that the severe headache she complained of might be a symptom
of eclampsia.
The attending chairman of the gynecology department had
had Yasuko admitted to the hospital of his own college several
days earlier, but though the labor pains had been going on for
two days, the delivery was not progressing, it seemed. They
searched for the cause and discovered that the angle of Yasuko's
pubic bone was smaller than normal. Thus a forceps delivery
was decided upon, to be performed by the chairman of the
gynecology department himself.
July second was one of those harbingers of midsummer that
come once in a while during the rainy season. Early in the
morning, Yasuko's mother came by in a car to pick Yuichi up in

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 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

accordance with his wish to be at the hospital on the day of the

delivery. The two mothers greeted each other ceremoniously.
Yuichi's mother wanted to go along too, but she·had decided not
to, she explained, because in her illness she would be a bother to
the others. Yasuko's mother was fat, healthy, and middle-aged.
Even after they got into the car, she continued with her usual
heavy-handed teasing of Yuichi.
"According to Yasuko, you're an ideal husband, but just the
same I'm not blind . If I were young I wouldn't leave you alone
whether you had a wife or not. How they must make a fuss
about you ! But let me ask one thing. Please be clever in your
deception of Yasuko. Where there is clumsy deception there is
no true affection. Since of course I can keep my mouth shut, tell
the truth only to me. Has anything interesting happened
lately?"
"It won't work. You can't trap me that way."
Supposing he did tell the truth to this woman who was like a
cow basking in the sun. A terrible vision of the reaction he
would excite suddenly flashed through his mind. At that mo­
ment, however, the youth was astonished to feel the woman's
hand reach out to touch the hair that fell over his forehead.
"Oh ! I thought your hair was getting white. It was only shin-
ing."
"Really !"
"It surprised me, too."
Yuichi saw that the sun was glaring outside. In some corner of
this morning street Yasuko was still suffering from labor pains.
As he thought of her, those pains appeared graphically before
his eyes. He felt as if he could gauge the weight of them in the
palm of his hand.
"She'll be all right, won't she?" the son-in-law said. As if in
disdain of his uneasiness, his mother-in-law answered : "She'll
be all right." She knew that the best way to calm a young, inex­
perienced husband was to show confidence and optimism in
these matters that were entirely of womanly concern.
When the car stopped at a crossroads they heard the sound of
a siren. Pell-mell down the sooty, gray street came a bright-red
fire engine, shimmering like a picture in a child's storybook. The
truck was almost prancing, its wheels touching the ground
lightly. It seemed to make the neighborhood rumble as it hurtled
past. Yuichi and Yasuko's mother watched it graze the car in

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which they were riding and then looked out of the car window
to see where the fire was.
"Stupid, isn't it? A fire at this time," said Yasuko's mother.
In all this bright sunlight she would not have been able to see a
fire even if it were burning right beside her. There was, however,
certainly a fire somewhere.

As Yuichi carne into the sickroom and wiped the perspira­

tion from Yasuko's suffering brow, he found it strange that he
should be coming here so soon before the impending delivery.
Something like a joy that courted danger lured him and forced
him on. Since there was nowhere he could go to be spared
thinking about Yasuko's pain, a desire to be close to her pain
held him to her side. The Yuichi who ordinarily hated to go
home carne to Yasuko's pillow as if returning horne.
The room was very warm. The sliding door to the balcony was
standing open. White curtains shielded the rays of the sun, but
the curtains were seldom touched by a breeze. The rain and cold
had continued until yesterday, so no fans had been installed; but
as soon as the mother walked into the room she grasped the
problem and phoned to have a fan sent from her horne. The
nurses were busy elsewhere. Yuichi and Yasuko were alone. The
young husband wiped the perspiration from her forehead. Ya­
suko gave a deep sigh and opened her eyes. She relaxed her
tight, sweaty grip on Yuichi's hand.
"I feel better now. I feel fine now. It will be all right for ten
minutes or so."
She looked around her as if noticing things for the first time :
"My, it's hot l"
Yuichi was frightened by Yasuko's relief. In her relieved ex­
pression he recalled a fragment of the daily life he feared most.
The young wife asked her husband for a mirror. She combed her
hair, in disarray from the pain. In her pale, swollen face, with no
makeup, there was an ugliness in which she herself could not
divine the sublime qualities of pain .
''I'm a mess. Please excuse me," she said pathetically, in a
voice that would not have been heard in one not ill. "In a jiffy I'll
be pretty again."
Yuichi looked directly down on that face like a child's, pros-
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

trated by pain. How was it to be explained, he wondered? This

unsightliness and pain was immersing him in human emotion
here in close proximity to his wife. When his wife was untrou­
bled and beautiful in a way that it was natural to love, however,
be was oddly driven away from human feeling and reminded
only of her soul, which he could not love. How could that be
explained? But Yuichi's error lay in his stubborn refusal to be­
lieve that within his present tenderness was mingled the tender­
ness of a common, ordinary husband.
Yasuko's mother came back with the nurse. Yuichi left his
wife in the hands of the two women and went out on the bal­
cony. The third-floor balcony overlooked the courtyard. His eyes
were met by the multitude of hospital windows across the court­
yard and the glass wall of the stairwell. He could see the white
uniform of a nurse descending the stairway. Upon the glass of
the stairs bold parallel lines were etched. The morning sun com­
ing from the opposite direction cut diagonally across those paral­
lel lines.
In the fierce glare, Yuichi smelled the odor of disinfectant and
recalled Shunsuke's words : "Don't you think you would like to
make sure of your innocence with your own eyes?"
That old man's words always have a poisonous power over
me. From an absolutely despised object, I shall see my own child
born, he told me. He divined that I shall be able to do it. There
was in his cruel sweet goading a triumphant self-confidence.
He rested his hand on the iron railing of the balcony. As he
did so, the tepid feel of the rusty iron warmed by the heat of
the sun suddenly reminded him of his honeymoon, when he had
whipped the railing of the hotel balcony with his necktie.
In Yuichi's heart an unnamable impulse arose. The repug­
nance that Shunsuke had built up inside him, which called up
with it a vivid pain, placed the youth under its spell. To resist it,
or to retaliate against it, was just about the same thing as aban­
doning himself to it. It was difficult for him to distinguish be­
tween his passion for determining the source of the repugnance
and a desire, motivated by appetite and lust for the flesh, to seek
out the fountainhead of pleasure. When he thought about it,
Yuichi's heart palpitated.
The door to Yasuko's room slid open.
Preceded by the white-suited chairman of the gynecology de-

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partment, two nurses carne into the room pushing a wheeled

stretcher. At that moment the labor pains attacked Yasuko again.
She called the name of her husband as if she were calling some­
one far away. He ran over and took her hand.
The chairman of the gynecology department smiled a sweet
smile. Then he said : "Just be patient a little while longer. Just a
little while."
There was something about his beautiful white hair that led
people �o trust him at first glance. Yuichi conceived a violent
antipathy toward that white hair, that venerability, all the good
intentions of that open-and-above-board great physician. All
anxieties, all concerns about this pregnancy, about this delivery
fraught with more or less unusual difficulties, about the child
to be born, fell ayvay from Yuichi. The only thing he thought of
was his wish to see that.
The suffering Yasuko kept her eyes closed even while they
moved her to the mobile stretcher. The perspiration ran in tor­
rents on her forehead. Her supple h and sought for Yuichi's in the
air. As the youth's hand grasped hers, her bloodless lips turned
toward his bent head.
"Stay with me. If you don't stay by my side, I won't be able to
go through with it."
Was there ever so moving, so naked a confession? It was
almost as if his wife had read the wish within the innermost
depths of his mind and was struck by the wild fancy that she
could help him. Even the bystanders perceived an extraordinary
intensity in the emotions he displayed on seeing this selfless
devotion in his wife.
"What's that?" the doctor said.
"My wife asked me to go with her all the way."
The doctor grasped the arm of this demure, inexperienced
husband. In a low, yet powerful voice he said : "We have young
wives who say things like that once in a while. Don't take her
seriously. If you do, both your wife and you willregret it surely."
"But my wife said if I'm not there-"
"I understand the way your wife feels, but she has had during
her pregnancy all the encouragement she needs just to become a
mother. If you are present . . . for you, her husband, to be
present, would be a terrible mistake. Even though you feel this
way now, you will certainly regret it later."
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O RS

"I shall never regret it."

"But all the fathers I've seen would have nothing to do with
this. I've never seen one like you."
"Doctor, I implore you I"
The instincts of the actor were leading Yuichi at this time to
portray the stubborn, unshakable distraction of a young husband
who has lost all sense of judgment out of anxiety for his wife.
The doctor nodded curtly. Yasuko's mother, listening to their
conversation, was shocked. "It's mad," she said; "please leave me
out. And do stop ! You1l surely regret it. Worst of all, do you
have to be so mean as to leave me all alone in the waiting
room ? "
Yasuko did not let g o of Yuichi's hand. H e felt a s i f her hand
were pulling him with a suddenly augmented power, but it was
the two nurses pushing the stretcher. The nurse on duty in that
room opened the door and ushered them out into the hall.
Yasuko's stretcher, with its entourage, took the elevator to the
fourth floor. It moved quietly across the cool reflections of the
corridor. As the wheels of the stretcher clicked slightly over the
joints in the floor, Yasuko's soft white chin bounced flaccidly
back and forth. The double doors of the delivery room swung
open. Only Yasuko's mother remained outside as they swung
shut. As they left her, Yasuko's mother said : "Really, Yuichi,
you'll be sorry. If it gets too horrible, please come out. I'll be
sitting in a chair in the hall."
The smile with which Yuichi replied to her was like that of a
man going into danger. This gentle young man knew his own
fears.
The stretcher was pushed to the side of another stretcher,
fitted out with equipment. Yasuko was moved to it. When she
had been moved, a curtain was drawn by a nurse between two
posts that were fixed to opposite sides of the new stretcher. This
curtain, drawn above the chest of the woman in labor, shielded
her eyes from the glare of the equipment and the cruel knives.
Yuichi grasped Yasuko's hand and stood above that curtain.
There he could see the two halves of Yasuko-her upper half,
and the lower half separated from her by the curtain she could
not see over.
The windows faced south, and the breeze blew through softly.
The necktie of the young husband, in shirtsleeves as he was,
flapped and fluttered and clung to his shoulder. He stuffed the

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end of it into the breast pocket of his shirt. He carried out this
action swiftly, as if interrupting a most engrossing enterprise.
Nevertheless, all he was doing was helplessly holding the hand
of his perspiring wife. Between this suffering body and this non­
suffering body there was a distance across which no action taken
by either could be linked.
"Just be patient a little longer. It will be done soon," said the
head nurse into Yasuko's ear again. Her eyes remained tight
shut. Yuichi felt freer because of the fact that his wife could not
see him.
The chainnan of the gynecology department appeared, his
hands scrubbed, his sleeves rolled up, followed by two assistants.
He did not so much as glance in Yuichi's direction. He signaled
to the head nurse. Two nurses removed the lower half of the table
on which Yasuko was lying. Her legs were stretched out in con­
formity with two strange hornlike projections sticking up in the
air on each side of the bottom edge of the half table on which
she lay.
The low curtain on top of her chest was designed to keep her
from seeing the pitiless transformation of the lower half of her
body into a thing, an object. Regardless, the pain of the top half
of Yasuko had become a pure, spiritual pain that knew nothing
about how she had been so transformed, that had nothing to do
with the incident involving her lower half. The prehensile power
with which she grasped Yuichi's hand was not a woman's power.
It was the arrogant power of flourishing pain, capable of pluck­
ing out Yasuko's existence.
Yasuko groaned. In the swelter of the room between gusts of
wind, the groans hovered like the sound of wings of countless
flies. She tried continually to raise her abdomen and, frustrated.
would drop back on the hard bed; her face, with eyes closed,
moved from side to side in tiny tremors. Yuichi remembered.
Last autumn, when he was with that passing student in the
daytime in that inn in Takagicho, he had heard fire-engine sirens
in his dream. Then he thought : In order that my guilt might
become a pure thing immune to fire, must not my innocence first
pass through the fire? My complete innocence where Yasuko is
concerned . . . Didn•t I once ask to be born again for Yasuko's
sake? And now?
He rested his eyes by looking at the scene outside the window.
The summer sun burned down on the woods in the big park on

[ 29 1 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L OR S

the other side of the government railway line. The oval of the
track was like a pool of radiance. No human sfiape was visible
there.
Yasuko's hand tugged strongly again at the hand of her hus­
band. It seemed to be calling his attention to something. He
instantly noticed the radiant bright gleams from the scalpel a
nurse had just handed to the doctor. Yasuko's lower body moved
like the mouth of a person vomiting. Onto the cloth applied to it,
which looked like the canvas of a sail, oozed urine from the
catheter and dripping mercurochrome.
That sailcloth, applied to a fissure painted red with mercuro­
chrome, resounded as a fierce flow struck it. First local anesthetic
was applied ; then the fissure was enlarged with scalpel and
shears. Yasuko's complicated, crimson interior came clearly into
the view of her young husband, who was drained of all cruelty.
Looking here at the insides of his wife, the skin stripped from
them, Yuichi was surprised that this flesh which he had felt to be
so much irrelevant pottery was something he could no longer
treat as inanimate.
"I must look. No matter what, I must look," he told himself,
attempting to control his nausea. "That system of countless,
gleaming, wet red jewels; those soft things under the skin,
soaked in blood ; those squirming things-a surgeon must soon
grow accustomed to things like that : I should be able to become
accustomed to being a surgeon. Since my wife's body is no more
than pottery to me sexually, there is no reason that the inside of
her body should be any more than that."
All the honesty of his consciousness soon betrayed his bluff.
The fearful contents of his wife's body turned inside out were
more than pottery. It was as if his feeling for humanity com­
pelled him, even more deeply than the sympathy he felt with his
wife's pain, to see, as he confronted this wordless scarlet flesh
and looked at the wet surface of it, his own inimitable self. Pain
does not transcend the body. It is alone, the youth thought. But
this naked, scarlet flesh was not alone. It was related to the red
flesh that indubitably existed within Yuichi; even the conscious­
ness of one who merely looked at it had to be instantly affected
by it.
Yuichi saw another, purely gleaming, mirror-like, cruel ma­
chine being passed into the doctor's hand. It was a large scissors
device, disjoined at the fulcrum. Where the blades should have

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been, there was a pair of large, curved spoons. One side was in­
serted deep inside Yasuko. Mter the other side was crossed over
and inserted, the fulcrum was engaged for the first time. It was
the forceps.
There at the utmost extremity of his wife's body, touching her
hand, the young husband keenly perceived the gropings of that
instrument, roughly invading with the intent of grasping some­
thing in its metal talons. He saw his wife's white front teeth
biting her lower lip. In all this suffering, he recognized that her
tender, tender faith in him never left her face, but he dared not
kiss her. For the youth did not have the confidence demanded
by even so natural an action as that gentle kiss.
In a morass of flesh, the forceps sought out the soft head of
the infant and grasped it. Two nurses, one on each side, pressed
against Yasuko's white abdomen.
Yuichi earnestly believed in his own innocence ; perhaps it
would be more appropriate to say that he prayed for it.
At this time, however, Yuichi's heart, pondering his wife's face
at the pinnacle of suffering, and the burning coloration in that
part of her that had been the source of his loathing, went
through a process of transformation. Yuichi's beauty, that
had been given over for the admiration of man and woman
alike, that had seemed to have existence only to be seen, for the
first time had its faculties restored and seemed now to exist only
to see. Narcissus had forgotten his own face. His eyes had an­
other object than the mirror. Looking at this awful u �'iness had
·

become the same as looking at himself.

Until now Yuichi had been incapable of feeling he existed
unless he "was seen" in toto. His consciousness of existing, in
short, was a consciousness of being seen. The youth now reveled
in a new sense of existence, an indubitable existence in which he
was not looked at. In short, he himself was seeing.
How transparent, how airy, this existence in its true form I
This Narcissus who had forgotten his face could even consider
that his face did not exist. If, beside herself with pain, his wife
had turned her face and opened her eyes, she would certainly
have had no trouble seeing there the expression of one who lived
in the same world as she.
Yuichi let go his wife's hand. He brought both his perspiring
hands to his forehead, as if to touch this new self. He took out a
handkerchief and wiped it. Then he saw his wife's hand, left

[ 2 !)3 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

behind there in the air, still clasping the impression of his hand,
and , as if thrusting his hand into a mold of itself, he took her
hand once more.
The amniotic fluid flowed out. The head of the baby, eyes
closed, was already visible. The work going on around the lower
half of Yasuko's body was of a kind with the back-breaking
exertions of a ship's crew bucking a gale. It was a common
enough power; human power was bringing forth life. Yuichi
could see the muscles straining even in the wrinkles of the white
coat of the chairman of the gynecology department.
Released of its fetters, the child slipped forth. It was a white,
faintly purple, half-dead lump of flesh. A murmuring kind of
sound welled forth . Then that lump of flesh began to cry. With
each cry it grew a little redder.
The umbilical cord was cut. The infant was cradled in a
nurse's arms and shown to Yasuko.
"It's a girl !"
Yasuko did not seem to understand.
"It's a girl." She heard and nodded faintly.
She lay silently with eyes open. Her eyes did not seem to see
her husl:Jand or the child that had been brought forth . If she saw
them, she did not smile. This impassive expression, properly an
animal's expression, was one that human beings are rarely able
to achieve. Compared with that expression, thought the man in
Yuichi, all human expressions of tragicomic pathos were little
more than masks.

[ 294 J
 CHAPTER 26

S OB ERING S UMMER

THEY CALLED THE child Keiko ; the family's joy was un­
bounded. This was true despite the fact that a girl was not what
Yasuko had set her heart on. In the week after the delivery,
there in the hospital, Yasuko's heart was full enough , but from
time to time she immersed herself in the useless preoccupation
with why it was a girl and not a boy. Could she have been
mistaken in praying for a boy? she wondered. Could it have
been only an empty illusion from the first-her joy that she held
captive a beautiful child the very image of her husband ? It was
still hard to tell which parent the baby favored, but at present
she seemed to have more of her father's features.
Every day Keiko gained weight. A scale was placed beside the
mother's bed, and every day the rapidly recuperating Yasuko
would record the increased weight on her graph. At first, Yasuko
thought that the child she had brought into the world was some
kind of monstrous object that had not yet attained human form,
but after the first stablike pains of suckling and the almost im­
moral delight that followed, she found her love for this offspring
with its strangely pouting face something she could not drive
from her heart. Besides, visitors and those around her treated
this shape that was not yet humanly all one might desire as if it
was perforce a human being, plying it with words that it could
not reasonably be expected to understand.
Yasuko attempted to compare the fearful physical pain she
had gone through two or three days earlier with the long period
of mental torture Yuichi had brought her. In the peace of her
heart, now that the first was over, strangely she found hope in

[ 295 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

th e thought that the pangs o f the second would last much longer
and require much more time for convalescence.
First to note Yuichi's transfonnation was not Yasuko but his
mother. This meek, uncomplicated soul in all the simplicity of its
nature perceived immediately the transfonnation of her son. As
soon as she heard about the safe delivery, she left Kiyo to mind
the house and set out for the hospital in a cab. She opened the
door of the hospital room. Yuichi was standing by Yasuko's pil­
low; he ran over and embraced his mother.
"Be careful; you'll knock me down"-she struggled and struck
a small fist against Yuichi's chest. "Don't forget that I'm sick.
Why, how red your eyes are ! Have you been crying?"
'Tm pretty tired. It was pretty tense. I stayed through the
delivery."
"You stayed through?"
"That's right," Yasuko's mother said. "I tried to stop him, but
he wouldn't listen. Yasuko for her part wouldn't let go of his
hand."
Yuichi's mother looked at Yasuko, the picture of motherhood.
Yasuko was smiling weakly, but her face showed no sign of
embarrassment. The mother looked at her son again. Her eyes
said : "What a strange child ! Now that you have witnessed such
a terrible thing, for the first time you and Yasuko look like a real
couple. You wear the expression of people sharing a sweet
secret."
Yuichi feared his mother's intuitions of this kind more than
anything. Yasuko did not fear them in the least. Now that her
pain was over, she was amazed that she felt no embarrassment
over h aving asked Yuichi to stand by her during the delivery.
Perhaps Yasuko vaguely believed that only through something
like that would she be able to make Yuichi believe the pain she
was going through.

One might well say that, except for supplementary lectures

on a few subjects, Yuichi's summer vacation started at the begin­
ning of July. His routine, however, consisted of passing the day
at the hospital and running around town in the evening. On
evenings when he did not see Kawada, he gladly went back to

[ 29 6 ]
 Sobering Summer

his old habits, in company with those whom Shunsuke called his
..dangerous associations."
At a number of bars for the initiated, as well as at Rudon's,
Yuichi had become a familiar figure. One of them was ninety per
cent foreign in patronage. Among the guests was a counterintel­
ligence man who liked to wear women's clothing. He wore a
stole on his shoulders and sidled about flirting with the custom­
ers, he did not care who.
At the Elysee Bar, a number of male prostitutes greeted
Yuichi. He returned their greetings and l aughed to himself : "Are
these dangerous associations ? Associations with such weak,
effeminate fellows as these ?"
The rains had been falling again since the day after Keiko's
birth, Yuichi was in a bar at the end of a muddy lane. Most of
the guests were already pretty drunk; they came and went,
showing splashes on their trousers they did not bother to brush
off. At times water flowed in a corner of the dirt floor. On the
rough plaster wall a number of umbrellas dripped, deepening
the flow.
Yuichi sat silently facing some nondescript hors d'oeuvres, a
pitcher filled with sake that was not of the best, and a sake cup.
The sake was barely contained by the thin lip of the cup. It
trembled at the brim, a transparent, pale yellow. Yuichi looked
at the cup. It was a cup into which no kind of vision could enter.
It was, simply, a cup. Ergo, it was nothing else.
Four or five persons were present. Even now Yuichi never
returned to one of the bars of the clan without getting involved
in one or two adventures. Older men approach ed him, spinning
sweet phrases. Younger boys flirted with him. Even this evening
there was at Yuichi's side a pleasant youth of about his own age
constantly pouring him sake. One could tell from the look in his
eyes, as he studied Yuichi's profile from time to time, that he was
in love with him.
The youth was good to look at. His smile was clean. What did
that mean? It meant that he wished to be loved. It was not a
wish based on any particular ignorance of himself. In order to
make his worth known, he went on and on with stories about
how he had been pursued by any number of men. It was more
or less a bother, but such self-introductions are typical of the
gay people. He wasn't carrying it to any point worth complaining

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 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

about. H e dressed well. He was not badly formed. His nails were
nicely manicured. The line of the white undershirt visible at his
belt was tidy. But what did that mean?
Yuichi raised his dark glance to the pictures of boxers pasted
on the wall of the bar. Vice that had lost its glitter was a hun­
dred times more boring than virtue that had lost its glitter. Per­
haps the reason vice is called crime lies in this boredom brought
about by repetition , which does not permit one to steal a second
of self-satisfaction . Devils must be bored by nothing else but the
glut of eternally seeking out original evil deeds.
Yuichi knew all the developments. If he smiled in assent to the
youth, they would go on until late at night calmly drinking
together. When the bar closed up, they would go out. Feigning
drunkenness, they would stand in front of a hotel entrance. In
Japan, as a rule, there is nothing strange about men friends
spending the night in the same hotel room. They would turn the
key of a room on the second floor within earshot of the whistle of
the midnight freight train close by. A kiss instead of a salutation,
disrobing, the neon signs nullifying the effect of the extinguished
lamp, the double bed with its superannuated spring squealing
piteously, impatient hugs and kisses, the first cold contact of the
skin of their naked bodies after the sweat had dried, the smell of
flesh and pomade, endless groping for satisfaction filled with
impatience for the same bodies, little screams belying masculine
vanity, hands wet with hair oil . . . Then the pitiable facsimile of
physical satisfaction, the evaporation of all that perspiration , the
groping under pillows for cigarettes and matches, the faintly
shining whites of eyes. Then the endless conversation surging as
over a broken dam, and the descent to the childish play of
nothing more than two men friends with their desire for a time
satisfied, tests of strength in the dark night, stabs at wrestling,
various other inanities . . . .
Suppose I go out with this youth , Yuichi thought, looking at
his sake cup. It willbe nothing new ; I know that the demands of
originality will be no more satisfied than before. Why is the love
of men so irresolute as this? And yet is not the very stuff of
homosexuality that simple state of pure friendship that comes
after the act? That lonely state of returning, lust appeased, mu­
tually to the state of being simply members of the same sex­
had not their lust been granted for the very purpose of building
to such a state? Those of this ilk love each other because they are

[ 2 !) 8 ]
 Sobering Summer

men, they like to think, but is it not the cruel truth that by
loving they recognize for the first time that they are men? Before
loving, something extremely subtle inhabits the consciousness of
these people. Their desire is closer to metaphysics than to sexual­
ity. And what is that?
Nevertheless, everywhere he looked he found only the wish to
get away. Saikaku's homosexual lovers had found no way out
s ave the priesthood or love suicide.
"Are you leaving already?" said the youth to Yuichi, who had
asked for his check.
"Yes."
"From Kanda Station?"
"Kanda. Right."
"Good, I'll walk you to the station."
They made their way out of the muddy hole and walked
slowly through the jumbled alley of drinking places under the
elevated tracks toward the station. It was ten p.m. Activity was
at its height in the alley.
The rain started again. It was extremely muggy. Yuichi wore a
white polo shirt; the youth wore a blue one and carried a brief
case by the handle. The street was narrow; they got under a
single umbrella. The youth suggested they get something cold to
drink. Yuichi assented, and they went into a little tea shop in
front of the station.
The youth talked happily-of his parents, of his cute little
sister, of his family business in a fairly big shoe store in Higashi­
nakano, of his father's hopes for him, of his own small bank
account. Yuichi watched the youth's rather beautiful peasant's
face and listened. This was a man indeed born for conventional
happiness. His circumstances were just about perfect for the
maintenance of such happiness. There was just one secret, guilt­
less defect, known to nobody. That flaw brought everything
down. Ironically, it gave to the face of this conventional youth a
kind of metaphysical shading he was not aware of. It made him
look as if worn out by the exertions of higher metaphysical spec­
ulation. He was the kind of man who seemed certainly to have
been brought up, were that defect not present, to become at­
tached at the age of twenty to his first woman and thereafter to
be filled with satisfaction like that of a man of forty, over which
he would ruminate until the day he died.
Over their heads the fan whirled sluggishly. The ice in their

[ 299 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

iced coffee melted quickly. Yuichi ran out of cigarettes and was
given one by the youth. He found it amusing to imagine what
would happen if the two became lovers and lived together. Men
friends refusing to clean up, the house untidied, a life spent
doing nothing all day but loving and smoking-the ash trays
would certainly get full in a hurry!
The youth yawned-a great, dark, glossy spreading of his oral
cavity, bordered by nicely even teeth.
"Excuse me. It's not that I'm tired. Just the same, I never stop
thinking I'd like to get the dust of this company off my feet."
(This did not mean he wanted to break away from gay things ;
Yuichi understood it to mean that he wished to enter into a
settled life quickly with a chosen companion. ) "I have a chann
here. Let me show it to you."
Forgetting that he was not wearing a jacket, he moved his
hand toward his breast pocket and had to explain that he had
put his treasure in a brief case when he decided not to put on a
jacket. Beside his thigh his bulky brief case lay, the leather peel­
ing off its sides. Its flustered owner opened the clasp too quickly;
the bag turned upside down, its contents spilling to the floor
with a clatter. The youth bent over excitedly and picked them
up. Yuichi did not help him, but scrutinized the objects the
youth picked up as they shone under the fluorescent light. There
was cream. There was lotion. There was pomade. There was a
comb. There was eau de cologne. There was another bottle of
cream of some kind. Looking forward to sleeping out, he had
brought these things along for his morning toilet.
Yuichi could not help feeling repelled by these cosmetics car­
ried about by a man who was not an actor. Unconscious of
Yuichi's revulsion, the youth held the bottle of eau de cologne up
to the light to see whether it was broken . When Yuichi saw that
only about a third of the eau de cologne was left, his revulsion
doubled.
The youth finished putting the fallen articles back into the
bag. Then he looked at Yuichi, puzzled that he had not moved to
help him. He remembered why he had picked up the bag and
bent down again, his face red to the ears from stooping. From
the compartment meant for small articles he took something tiny
and yellow and waved it at the end of a red silk thread before
Yuichi's eyes.
Yuichi took it in his hand and looked at it. It was a tiny straw

[ 300 ]
 Sobering Summer

s andal, plaited of yellow stuff, with a red strap.

"Is this your charm ? "
"Yes, a fellow gave it t o me."
Yuichi looked at his watch, not hiding the fact. He said he had
to go. They left the shop. At the Kanda Station the youth bought
a ticket to Higashinakano, Yuichi one to S -- Station. Their
trains were on the same line. When the train approached
S-- and Yuichi was ready to get off, the youth, who supposed
Yuichi had purchased the ticket to S-- Station because of
reticence about going to the same destination, was overcome
with confusion. His hand gripped Yuichi's hand. Yuichi thought
of the hand of his suffering wife and shook it off brusquely. The
youth's pride was wounded. Wishing to take Yuichi's impolite
behavior as a joke, he forced a laugh.
"Aie you really getting off here ?''
••Yes.JJI
"All right, I'll go with you."
They got off together at the quiet, night-enshrouded station.
"I'm going with you," the youth insisted, exaggerating his drunk­
enness.
Yuichi became angry. He suddenly remembered a visit he
must make.
"Where are you going to go when you leave me?"
"You don't know, do you?" said Yuichi coldly. "I have a wife."
The youth went white. He was unable to move. "Then you've
been stringing me along I"
He burst into rears as he stood there. Then he went over to a
bench, sat down, clutched his brief case to his chest, and cried.
Yuichi witnessed this comical end to matters and swiftly ran up
the stairs to escape. He was not being followed, evidently. He
left the station and almost flung himself into the rain . Before his
eyes stretched the hospital buildings, reposing in silence.
I wanted to come here, he thought soberly. When I saw the
contents of that man's bag fall on the floor, I suddenly wanted to
come here.
By all rights, it was time he went to his home, where his
mother was waiting alone. He couldn't stay over in the hospital.
He felt, however, that if he didn't go to the hospital he wouldn't
be able to sleep.
At the gate the watchmen were still awake, playing Japanese
chess. Their dim, yellow lamp was visible from afar. From the

[ 30l ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L O RS

admitting window a dark face looked out. Fortunately the guard

remembered Yuichi, who had made a reputation for himself as
the man who had stayed by his wife while she delivered her
baby. Yuichi knew his excuse didn't make much sense, but he
explained that he had left something valuable in his wife's room.
"She's probably asleep," said the guard. The expression on this
uxorious young man's face, however, touched his heart. Yuichi
ascended the dim stairway to the third floor. The sound of his
shoes reverberated harshly on the staircase.
Yasuko wasn't sleeping, but she heard the sound of the gauze­
wrapped knob being turned as if it were a sound in her dream.
She suddenly became frightened, s at up, and switched on the
light on the stand. The human form standing out of range of the
light was her husband. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief,
a paroxysm of incredulous joy struck her breast. The manly
white front of Yuichi's polo shirt moved before her.
The couple exchanged two or three casual words. Out of her
native sagacity, Yasuko refrained from asking why he had come
to see her so late at night. The young husband turned the lamp
so that it shone toward Keiko's basinet. Small, pure, half­
transparent nostrils solemnly drew breath in sleep. Yuichi was
enraptured by the conventionality of his emotions. These emo­
tions, which had until now lain dormant within him, at this
moment found a safe and sure path before them and were capa­
ble of intoxicating him. Yuichi bade a gentle good-bye to his
wife. He had every good reason to sleep well tonight.

On the morning after Yasuko returned home from the hos­

pital, Yuichi got up and heard an apology from Kiyo. The mirror
be had always used while tying his necktie had dropped and
broken during housework. This small accident made him smile.
It was perhaps a sign that the beautiful youth had been released
from the legendary power of the mirror. He was reminded of
the small, jet black, ornamented mirror stand at the inn at
K-- last summer when his ears were first assaulted by
Shunsuke's praise of beauty and he entered so closely into that
association with the all-seeing mirror. Before that, Yuichi, fol­
lowing the usual male predilection, had resolutely refrained
from thinking of himself as beautiful. Now that the mirror was

[ J02 ]
 Sobering Summer

broken, would he not once more be governed by that taboo?

One evening they were having a going-away party for a for­
eigner at Jackie's house. Yuichi was invited through an inter­
mediary. His presence would be important during the evening's
festivities. Jackie would rise in the estimation of the many guests
if Yuichi came. On hearing this, Yuichi vacillated, but he finally
decided to accept.
Everything was the same as the gay party last Christmas. All
the young men who had been invited were waiting at Rudon's,
All wore aloha shirts, which were really very becoming to them.
Eichan, the Oasis Kimichan, and others were among them just as
the year before. The foreign contingent was different, making
the gathering fine and fresh of feature. There were also new
faces in the group. A young man named Kenchan was one;
Katchan was another. The former was the son of the owner of a
large eel shop in Asakusa. The father of the other was the man­
ager of a branch bank, noted for reliability.
Everyone grumbled about the rainy mugginess as they sat
waiting for the foreigner's car. They told silly stories over their
cold drinks. Kimichan had an interesting story to tell. The
former proprietor of a fruit store in Shinjuku had moved a bar­
racks building after the war, and when he was preparing to have
it made into a two-story permanent building, he took part, as the
head of the firm, in a ground-breaking ceremony. With a smug
face he offered the sacred tree to God. Then it became the
special duty of a beautiful young employee to offer the sacred
tree. The other people didn't know it, but this altogether ordi­
nary ceremony was a secret wedding performed before the eyes
of the populace . The two men, lovers for a long time, would set
up housekeeping together the evening after the ground-brealdng
ceremony-the boss had secured a divorce from his wife a
month before.
The young men in their colorful aloha shirts, anns bare, sat
variously posed in the chairs of this habitual hangout. Their
necks were all cleanly shaven, their hair gave off a strong per­
fume, their shoes all shone like new. One leaned his elbows far
forward on the bar, crooned a popular hit, and kept throwing
dice from a frayed leather dice cup; affecting grown-up weari­
ness, he toyed with the black dice, which had red and green
spots.
How worthy of attention their futures I A limited number of

[ 3 03 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

the boys who entered this world, hounded by lonely impulses or

seized by guiltless temptations, would make the lucky toss that
would bring them a prize of study abroad, unattainable in the
ordinary course of events. The overwhelming majority, after a
time, for the excesses of youth, would probably be cast with
shocking suddenness into the lot of ugly age. Already in their
youthful faces, addiction to curiosity and ceaseless craving for
stimulation had left its traces. The gin drunk at seventeen, the
taste of proffered foreign cigarettes, those dissipations that wore
the mask of fearless innocence-dissipations of a kind that
never left even the fruits of remorse-all the tips forced upon
them by adults and the secret expenditures of them, the effort­
lessly instilled desire for indulgence, the awakening of the
instinct for bodily adornment-theirs was a flaunted degrad­
ation, without concealment, no matter what form it took. Their
youth was self·sufficient, and nowhere could they flee the in­
nocence of their flesh. If one asked why, it was because their
youth, which felt no sense of completeness, could gain no sense
of having lost anything at all, though it is customary to feel a
kind of completeness in the loss of innocence.
"Screwy Kimichan," said Katchan.
"Bats Katchan," said Kimichan.
"Usurer Eichan," said Kenchan.
"Moron I" said Eichan.
This primitive repartee was like the frolicking of puppies in
the glass-walled kennels of a pet shop.
It was very warm. The fan wafted a breeze like tepid water.
All were already finding this evening's journey tedious, but the
foreigners' two cars that came to pick them up just then­
convertible sedans with the tops rolled back-revived their spirts
considerably. Thanks to this, they were able to enjoy their con­
versation, sitting in the wind heavy with suspended rain during
the two-hour trip to Oiso.

"Yuchan l Glad you could came l" Jackie embraced Yuichi

with wholehearted friendly affection.
The host, clad in an aloha shirt with a sea, sail, shark, and
palm-tree pattern, had instincts sharper than a woman's, and

[ 304 ]
 Sobering Summer

when he conducted Yuichi into the hall in which the sea breeze
swirled, he immediately whispered in the youth's e ar : "Yuchan l
Has something happened?"
"My wife had a baby."
"Yours ?"
"Mine."
"Wonderful !"
Jackie laughed heartily. They clinked their glasses together
and drank to Yuichi's daughter. There was, however, something
in this action that brought home to them the distance between
the two worlds they inhabited. As always, Jackie was a tenant of
the mirror room, the domain of the men being looked at. He
would perhaps dwell there until the day he died. I£ a child were
born to him, it would probably have to live on the other side of
the mirror, separated from its father. All human concerns, as he
saw it, were devoid of urgency.
The orchestra struck up a popular song. The men danced,
perspiring. Yuichi looked down out of the window and gaped.
Here and there in the grassy garden were clumps of bushes and
shrubbery. In each of the shadows thrown by them, there was a
shadow locked in embrace. In the shadows points of fire were
spotted about. Now and then a m atch was struck, revealing
clearly part of the prominent nose of some foreigner.
Yuichi saw in the shadow of an azalea on the garden's edge a
T-shirt with horizontal stripes, of the kind worn by seamen,
detach itself from another's body. The companion wore a plain
yellow shirt. Two men, supple as cats, gave each other a light
kiss and departed in different directions. Mter a time Yuichi
noticed the one in the striped T-shirt leaning by one of the
windows as if he had been there for quite a while. He had a
small, fierce face, impassive eyes , a mouth like a pouting child's,
and the complexion of Cape j asmine.
Jackie got up, went to his side, and asked him casually:
"Where did you go, Jack?"
"Ridgeman had a headache, so I went off to the drugstore to
get him some pills."
This young man, with his cruel white teeth, his lips so suited
to the lie he was telling-deliberately and obviously a lie just to
torture the other person-Yuichi recognized as Jackie's current
lover. He had heard rumors about the youth and only needed to

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 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

hear the alias t o know him. Jackie heard his excuse and came
back to Yuichi, holding in both hands a whiskey glass fille d with
crushed ice.
He said in Yuichi's ear : "Did you see what that liar was up to
in the garden? "
Yuichi said nothing.
"You saw it, didn't you? Anywhere, even in my own backyard,
he does things like that."
Yuichi saw the pain on Jackie's brow.
"You're awfully big about it," said Yuichi.
"Those who love are always magnanimous; those who are
loved are the cruel ones. I, Yuchan, have been crueler than he to
men who loved me." With that he told boastful stories of how
he, even at his age, was made much of by older foreigners.
"What makes a m an cruel is the consciousness that he is
loved. The cruelty of men who are not loved is not worth talking
about. For instance, Yuchan, those men known as humanists
just had to be ugly men."
Yuichi had wished to treat the distress of Jackie with due
respect. Jackie, however, had anticipated him and was himself
administering to his pain the white talcum powder of vanity. He
ended by making a kind of incomplete obscure grotesquery of it.
The two stood there for a time and talked of the recent affairs of
Count Kaburagi, in Kyoto. Even now, it seemed, the count
showed his face occasionally at one of the "in" bars in the
Shichijo-N aihama neighborhood.
Jackie's portrait, as ever, was attended by a pair of candles.
Above the m antel it projected its delicately olive-colored naked­
ness. At the corners of the mouth of this young B acchus with a
necktie sloppily tied on his naked neck, there was an expression
that seemed to speak of the imperishability of joy or the im·
mutability of pleasure. The champagne glass he held in his right
hand was never empty.
That evening Yuichi forgot Jackie's disappointment and, ig­
noring the enticing hands held out to him by the many foreign
guests, went to bed with a boy who pleased him. The boy's eyes
were round ; his round cheeks-with beard not yet developed­
were white as peeled fruit. After the act was over, Yuichi
yearned to return horne. It was one o'clock in the morning. One
of the foreigners, who also had to be back in Tokyo that night,

[ 3 06 ]
 Sobering Summer

offered to drive Yuichi back in his car. Yuichi was very grateful
for the offer.
Out of natural courtesy, he sat in the seat next to the
foreigner, who was driving. The middle-aged , ruddy-complex­
ioned foreigner was an American of German ancestry. He
treated Yuichi politely and spoke of his home in Philadelphia.
He explained the origin of the name, from a town of Asia Minor
of the time of ancient Greece. The "Phil" was the Greek word
phileo, meaning "love"; "adelphia" was from adelphos, meaning
"brother." "In short, my home town is the country of brotherly
love," he said. Then, still speeding along on the deserted high­
way, he took one hand off the wheel and gripped Yuichi's hand.
He put his hand back on the wheel and suddenly swung it
hard to the left. The car veered into a small, little-used road,
then turned right and stopped under a grove of trees rustling in
the night wind. The foreigner grasped Yuichi's hands. The two
looked at each other for a time and struggled. It was the for­
eigner's heavy arms covered with golden hair against the youth's
arms, tight and smooth. The giant's strength was amazing;
Yuichi was no match for him.
In the lampless interior of the car the two fell in a heap.
Yuichi was the first to right himself. He reached out his hand to
cover himself with the pale blue aloha shirt and the white under­
shirt that had just been torn away from his body. Then the
youth's bare shoulder was held in the power of the lips of the
other, again overcome by passion. Avidly, giant canine teeth ,
accustomed to meat, sank voraciously into the glowing flesh of
the shoulder. Yuichi yelled. Blood ran across the young man's
breast.
He twisted his body and rose to his feet. The roof of the car,
however, was low. Besides, the front glass at his back sloped
downward. He could not stand upright. He pressed one hand
against his wound. White with humiliation and his own helpless­
ness, he stood in a half slouch, simply glaring at the man.
The foreigner's eyes recovered from their passion. He sud­
denly turned obsequious. Seeing the evidence of his behavior, he
was struck with horror. His whole body shook, and finally he
cried. Even more stupidly, he kissed a little silver cross that hung
from a chain on his chest. Then , still half-dressed, he leaned
against the steering wheel and prayed. After that he begged

[ J07 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C OL ORS

Yuichi again and again to forgive him , explaining tearfully that

his virtues and his upbringing were powerless against obsessions
of this kind. There was a ridiculous self-righteousness in his en­
treaties. When he attacked Yuichi with overwhelming force,
Yuichi's momentary physical weakness had brought a salutary
change in the spiritual weakness of his adversary-or so he
wished to say.
Yuichi hastened to adjust his shirt. The foreigner soon became
conscious of his own nakedness and covered himself. It had
taken him time to recognize his nakedness, just as it had taken
him time to recognize his weakness.
Owing to this mad incident, it was morning before Yuichi got
home.
The wound in his shoulder did not take long to heal. When
Kawada saw the scar, he was filled with jealousy and schemed
for a way that he too might be privileged to inflict such a wound
without incurring Yuichi's wrath.
Yuichi was frightened by the difficulties of associating with
Kawada, who made a sharp distinction between his social dig­
nities and the joy he felt in the humiliations of love. His treat­
ment threw the young man, not yet schooled in the realities of
society, into confusion. Even though Kawada did not mind
kissing the soles of the feet of the one he loved, he would not
permit that person to touch his social position with so much as
one finger. In this regard he was the exact opposite of Shunsuke.
The bitterness of understanding . . . Yuichi had a happy natu­
ral gift for bearing the bewilderment with which understanding
attacks youth. With Shunsuke's guidance he had come to all the
ready-made unde:rstandings : the emptiness of wealth and fame
and position; the hopeless ignorance and stupidity of mankind,
particularly the worthless existence of women; and the way life's
tedium gives substance to all its passions. The sensual urges that
even in his boyhood years had discovered for him human life
and all its ugliness had accustomed him to bearing any ugliness
or vanity whatever as self-evident. Thanks to his calm inno­
cence, therefore, his understanding was spared from bitterness.
The horrors of the life that he had seen, the eye-popping sensa­
tions that some da1llk, deep pit of life was opening beneath his
feet, were so many healthy preparatory exercises for his role as a
spectator at Yasuko's delivery-nothing more than clean physi­
cal training for a track man under a clear, blue sky.

[ 3o8 ]
 Sobering Summer

Now Yuichi's social ambitions were good-tempered and child­

ish, what one would expect in a youth. His financial capacities
were acknowledged. At the urging of Kawada, he was thinking
of going into industry.
As Yuichi saw it, economics was an extremely human subject.
To the extent that it was connected directly and deeply with
human desires, the activity of its organization was strengthened.
At one time, in the developing years of free enterprise econom­
ics, it exhibited autonomous faculties, thanks to a close connec­
tion with the desires-the self-interest-of the rapidly rising
bourgeoisie. Today, however, it was in a period of decline ,
owing to the fact that its organization had been separated from
desire and mechanized, thus bringing about the attenuation of
desire. A new system of economics had to find new desire.
The greatest evil, certainly, lies only in reasonless desire, ob­
jectless desire. Why? Love with the object of propagating chil­
dren, selfishness with the object of distributing profits, passion
for a revolution of the working class with the object of attaining
Communism are virtues in the various ruling societies.
Yuichi did not love a woman, and the woman bore Yuichi a
child. At that time he saw the ugliness, not of Yasuko's will, but
of objectless desire in life. The proletariat also, without realizing
it, are probably born from desire of this kind. Yuichi's economic
studies had thus brought him to a new concept of desire. He
conceived the ambition to make himself over into that desire.
Yuichi's outlook on life was not, as one would expect in a
young man, marked by impatience to resolve mattel!>S. When he
looked at the contradictions and the uglinesses of society, he had
the strange urge to take their place. Confusing his instincts with
the objectless desire of life, he wished for the various gifts of the
industrialist. If Shunsuke had heard his wishes, he would have
averted his eyes at the thought that Yuichi had become captive
to common ambition. Ages ago, the beautiful Alcibiades, also
accustomed to being loved, had become in the same way a hero
of vanity. Yuichi began to think he would take advantage of
Kawada's good offices.

It was summer. Between sleeping and crying, and crying

and feeding at the breast, the child of not yet one month was not

[ 3 09 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

much to speak of. Her father, however, never tired of watching

her monotonous routine. Carried away by curiosity, he tried to
open forcibly her tiny, tight-closed fist in order to see the ball of
lint she had accumulated there since her birth, for which he was
reproved by her mother.
Yuichi's mother, too, out of the joy of seeing the thing she had
hoped and dreamed of, quickly improved in health. Yasuko's
various symptoms which had occasioned anxiety before her de­
livery left her without a mark. The happiness of the household
grouped around Yuichi was almost perfect.
As early as the day before Yasuko left the hospital, on the day
of the seventh-night observance of Keiko's naming, a ceremonial
robe came from Yasuko's family. Of scarlet gauze crepe, it was
embroidered in gold with the wood sorrel of the Minami crest. A
yellowish-pink obi and a red brocade purse embroidered with
the crest accompanied it. This was the harbinger of gifts. From
friends and relatives everywhere came red silks and white silks.
Baby sets carne. Silver spoons engraved with the crest came.
Thanks to these, Keiko would literally be brought up with a
silver spoon in her mouth. Kyoto dolls came, in glass cases, along
with baby clothes, Imperial palace dolls, baby blankets.
One day, a big deep-red baby carriage was delivered from the
department store. Its truly luxurious construction astounded
Yuichi's mother. "Who, now, could have sent this? Why, it's
someone I don't even know," she said. Yuichi looked at the name
of the sender. It was Yaichiro Kawada.
When Yuichi was called to the back door by his mother and
saw it, he was suddenly struck by an unhappy memory. It was
very much like the baby carriage in front of which Yasuko had
stopped for so long on the fourth floor of her father's department
store. This was the day they went there soon after she had been
diagnosed as pregnant.
Because of this gift, he had to sketch for his wife and his
mother the background of his association with Yaichiro Kawada,
short of matters that would offend them. His mother only had to
understand that Kawada was a student of Shunsuke's ; she was
satisfied again that her son was the kind of person to be loved by
those in high places. And so, at the end of the first week of
summer, when an invitation came from Kawada asking Yuichi to
his cottage on the Hayama-Isshiki shore, his mother insisted on
his going.

[ 3I0 ]
 Sobering Summer

"Give him the best wishes of your wife and family, won't
you ?" she said, and out of her firm sense of duty entrusted her
son with cakes as a gift to his host.
The cottage wasn't as big as its lawn, which was almost a
quarter of an acre. When Yuichi got there at about three o'clock,
he was surprised to see that the old man who faced Kawada on
the glassed-in veranda was Shunsuke. Yuichi wiped away his
perspiration as he smilingly approached the two men on the sea­
breeze-laden veranda.
In public, Kawada restrained any emotion that might appear
excessive. He spoke deliberately, and avoided looking at Yuichi's
face. When Shunsuke joked about the box of cakes and the
message Yuichi's mother had sent, the three men felt easier.
Things were as they always had been.
Yuichi noticed a chessboard with kings, queens, minor pieces,
and pawns.
Kawada asked if he wanted to play chess. Shunsuke had been
learning the game from Kawada. Yuichi declined. With that
Kawada suggested going outdoors while the wind was still good.
Shunsuke had consented to go along to the Toshi-Abuzuru yacht
basin when Yuichi arrived, after which they were to sail in
Kawada's yacht.
Kawada looked youthful in a stylish plain yellow shirt. Even
the aged Shunsuke wore a bow tie. Yuichi had taken off his
sweat-soaked shirt and changed to a yellow aloha.
They went to the yacht basin. Kawada's Sea Horse Number 5
boat was named the Hippolyte. Kawada had not mentioned i t
earlier; the name was, o f course, something he wanted t o sur­
prise his guests with. Shunsuke and Yuichi were charmed. There
were also a boat named the Gomennasai, owned by an American,
and also the Nomo, meaning "Drink."
There were many clouds, but the afternoon sun was quite
strong. On the Zushi coast across the water, crowds of weekend
visitors were visible.
Everywhere there were the signs of summer. The bright con­
crete slope of the yacht basin continued undeviatingly down into
the water. The parts of it that were always in the sea were
patchy with slippery moss filled with countless half-petrified
shells and tiny air bubbles. Other than a few waves that swayed
the masts of numerous anchored boats, ever so delicately spread­
ing the shiny reflections of ripples against the hulls, the sea

[ 3ll J
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

rolled from afar toward the breakwater, rippling the surface of

the tiny harbor.
Yuichi threw everything he was wearing into the yacht and
stripped down to his swinuning suit. He walked into the water
up to his thighs and pushed the Hippolyte out. The mild breeze
which he had not felt while he was on land struck him squarely
and affectionately in the face as it came across the water.
The yacht went out of the harbor. Kawada, with Yuichi's help,
lowered the heavy, zinc-plated, iron centerboard through the
middle of the boat into the water. Kawada was a good yachts­
man. When he was sailing, however, his facial neuralgia tugged
at him more than usual and caused his guests the uneasy feeling
that his tight-clenched pipe would fall from his mouth into the
sea. The pipe didn't fall. The boat swung west and headed for
Enoshima. At that time, in the western sky, there was a majestic
cloudscape. A few rays pierced the clouds, as in an ancient paint­
ing. In the eyes of the highly imaginative Shunsuke, alienated
from nature, the surface of the deep blue distance was filled with
a vision of dead men lying in heaps.
''Yuichi has changed," Shunsuke said.
Kawada answered : "Not really. I wish it were true. He's one
that I can't relax with unless I'm with him out here on the sea or
some such place. A while ago, during the rainy season, I went to
dinner with him at the Imperial Hotel. Mterward we. were
drinking at the bar when a beautiful boy came in with a for­
eigner. He and Yuchan were dressed like identical twins. Their
neckties, their suits . . . after a while I looked carefully; even
their socks were the same. Yuchan and that lovely boy ex­
changed quick glances, but it was clear they were deeply embar­
rassed . . .
"Oh, Yuchan, the wind has changed! Spread that sheet over
there, won't you ? That's right . . .
"But there was something even more embarrassing between
me and that unknown foreigner. After we had taken one glance
at each other, we could no longer remain indifferent to each
other. Yuichi's clothes that day were not to my liking. He had
wanted them, though, so I agreed to h aving them made-suit
and necktie in American taste. It seemed sure that Yuichi had
gotten together with that beautiful boy and they had arranged
to go out together in similar clothes. It was a strange accident,
an unfortunate one, that they should have bumped into each

[ 3 1 2 ]
 Sobering Summer

other accompanied by their patrons. It was a confession that

they were intimate with each other. The beautiful boy was of
light complexion, a marvelously turned-out youngster. The pur­
ity of his eyes and the charm of his smile gave a strikingly
vivacious power to his beauty. I'm a terribly jealous person, as
you know, and that whole evening afterward I was in a rotten
mood. Mter all, that foreigner and I had been two-timed right
before our eyes I
"Yuchan, it seemed, knew that whatever he said would make
him seem more guilty, so he sat there quiet as a stone. At first I
was mad and heaped accusations on him, but in the end I had to
admit defeat. It's always I who end up trying to cheer him.
"Always the same developments, always the same results. It
sometimes bothers m� at work, and when judgments that should
be clear come out cloudy, I worry about how I must seem to
others. Do you understand, sir? An industrialist like me, with a
large organization, three factories, six thousand stockholders,
five thousand employees, capable of producing six thousand
trucks alone-if a man like me, able to influence all that
activity, were in my private life under the influence of a woman,
the world would find it easier to understand. But if they knew
that I, such as I am, were influenced by a student of twenty-two
or -three, the absurdity of that secret would give people the
greatest laugh .
"We aren't embarrassed about immorality. We are afraid of
being laughed at. That the president of an automobile company
might be a homosexual is something earlier times might have
tolerated, but nowadays it would be as funny as if a millionaire
were addicted to shoplifting, or if a great beauty farted. When a
man is funny up to a certain point, he may use the ridicule to
make people love him. When he is ridiculous beyond that point,
however, it is unforgivable for people to laugh at him.
"Do you know, sir, why the third president of the Krupp Steel
Works committed suicide before the First World War? A love
that turned all values upside down took over his sense of dignity
and destroyed the balance by which he had supported himself in
society."
This lengthy complaint coming from the mouth of Kawada
had the air of a lecture or instructional discourse, and Shunsuke
found it difficult even to chime in with words of assent. But then,
whatever breaks there were in this story of ruin were fille d by

[ J l3 ]
 FORBIDDEN C O L O RS

Kawada's seamanship as the yacht glided through the water.

Yuichi was spending most of his time stretched out on the
prow, fixedly scanning the area toward which the boat headed.
Though he was clearly aware that the words being spoken were
meant for him, he kept his back turned to the middle-aged nar­
rator and his aged listener. The sun's rays seemed to glisten off
the shining skin of his back; still untanned, that marble young
skin gave off the odor of summer greenery.
They approached Enoshima, and turned their backs to the
view of Kamakura shining in the distance as Kawada swung the
Hippolyte south. Although the conversation between the two
men was entirely about Yuichi, he took no part in it.
"At any rate, Yuichi has changed," said Shunsuke.
'1 wouldn't say so. Why do you say that?"
"I don't know why. But he's changed. Frighteningly, as I see
it."
"He's a father now. But he's still a child. Basically, he hasn't
changed a bit."
"Let's not argue; you know Yuichi much better than I do,"
said Shunsuke, carefully moving the camel-hair blanket he bad
brought along so that it shielded his neuralgic knee from the sea
breeze. He adroitly changed the subject. "As to what you were
saying about the relationship between people's evil deeds and
whether they're thought ridiculous, I'm very much interested in
the subject. At present, we have taken out of education the
minute concern with immorality we used to feel had such tre­
mendous importance. The metaphysics of immorality is dead;
only the humor of it is left. It bas become something funny. Isn't
that right? The disease of ridicule throws the balance of life into
confusion ; but if only immorality would maintain its dignity, it
would not destroy life's balance. There's something strange
about this logic, isn't there? Is it not a reflection of the shallow­
ness of modernity, that something lofty now is without power
and something ridiculous bas savage strength? "
"I don't particularly care t o have immorality looked at as
something dignified."
"You think there are just common, ordinary vices, eh? A
'golden mean' of them?" Shunsuke had slipped into his lecture
platform tone of many decades earlier. "In ancient Sparta the
boys were not punished for the thefts they carried out so deftly
as a way of developing the agility demanded on the battlefield.

[ 3I4 )
 Sobering Summer

One boy stole a fox, but he bungled and was caught. He hid the
fox under his clothing and denied the offense. The fox
chewed right into the boy's middle. Nevertheless, he kept right
on protesting and, without a cry of pain, died. You may think
that what is great in this story is its demonstration that self­
discipline is a greater virtue than theft. It shows that all is re­
deemed. But that is not so. He died because he was humiliated
that through his exposure extraordinary vice was brought down
to the level of ordinary crime. The morality of the Spartans had
a sense of beauty in it that cannot be excluded from the models
of ancient Greece. Subtle evil is more beautiful than coarse
goodness, and is therefore moral.
"Ancient morality was simple and strong, and thus magnifi­
cence was always on the side of subtlety, and humor always on
the side of coarseness. Nowadays, however, morality has been
separated from esthetics. Thanks to cheap bourgeois principles,
morality has taken sides with mediocrity and with the 'golden
mean.' Beauty has taken on an exaggerated form , become old­
fashioned, and it is either magnificent or a joke. These days it
doesn't matter which ; the two have the same meaning. However,
as I said before, false modernism and false humanism have
propagated the heresy of adorning human defects. Modem art
has tended, since Don Quixote, toward the glorification of the
ridiculous. Maybe you wouldn't mind having the homosexual
proclivities of an automobile company president like you wor­
shiped as ludicrous. In short, since it is funny, it is beautiful ;
therefore, if even you with your upbringing aren't able to resist
it, society is even happier. You should be smashed ; then you
would be a real modern manifestation of one deserving respect.''
"Humanity. Humanity," Kawada muttered. "That is the only
place we can hide, the only basis we have for vindication. Isn't
that perversity itself-this need to drag in all humanity in order
to prove that you yourself are human? If humanity is humanity,
isn't it vastly more human to do as people usually do, to seek the
help of something outside humanity-God, or physical or scien­
tific truth? Perhaps all the humor lies in the fact that we go
about setting ourselves up as human beings and defend our
instincts as human. But the men of society who should listen to
us are not at all interested in us as human beings."
Shunsuke remarked with a little smile, ''I'm very much inter­
ested in them.''

( 3IJ ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

"You're a very special case, sir."

"Yes ; I am, after all, the monkey known as an artist."
There was a great splash near the bow. When they looked
they saw that Yuichi, perhaps feeling left out, perhaps sick of the
boring dialogue, had dived into the water and swum off.
From the glassy troughs between the waves, the sinews of a
smooth back and shapely arms appeared, glittering and corus­
c ating.
The swimmer had not plunged in without a purpose. A hun­
dred yards to the right of the yacht appeared Najima, whose
strange shape had been visible even in the offing back at Abu­
zuru. Najima was a low, oblong island formed by a succession of
bald rocks that barely protruded from the sea. There were no
trees except a single, undergrown, twisted pine. Thus, what
made the sight of the uninhabited island even more mysterious
was a gigantic torii, towering above the water line at the center
of the highest rock and supported, since it was not yet complete,
by great ropes stretched from the surrounding terrain.
Under the light filtering dazzlingly through the clouds, the
torii and the ropes leading to it soared in a silhouette full of
meaning. No workmen were visible; the shrine that should have
been grouped with the torii-under construction, probably-was
not visible. One could not determine, therefore, which way the
torii faced. It stood aloof upon the sea, the figure of objectless
adoration. Its form was black, but all around, the sea glittered in
the western sun.
Yuichi caught hold of a rock and climbed onto the island. He
seemed to be impelled by childish curiosity to advance closer to
the torii. He disappeared between two rocks and then climbed
another. When he got to the torii, the naked youth, the western
sky ablaze at his back, presented the lines of a sculpture in
marvelous silhouette. He rested one hand on the torii and, lifting
the other hand high, waved to the pair on the yacht.
Kawada brought the Hippolyte as close to Najima as he could
without striking some sunken reef, and waited for Yuichi to
swim back.
Shunsuke pointed to the form of the young man at the side of
the torii and s aid : "Is that funny?"

"What is it?"

[ 316 ]
 Sobering Summer

''That's beautiful. It's frightening, but that can't be helped."

"If so, Mr. Kawada, where is the humor?"
Kawada slightly bowed his eternally unbending head and
said : "I must rescue myself from the ridiculous."
When he heard this, Shunsuke laughed. It seemed as if his
uncontrollable laughter had crossed the water and reached
Yuichi's ears. The young man ran along the rocks and appeared
to be setting out for a point on the shore close to the Hip­
polyte . • . •

The party sailed as far as the Morito coast, then followed the
shoreline back to Abuzuru. Then they proceeded by car to the
Kaihin Hotel in Zushi for supper. The hotel there was a small
summer resort. Recently it had been released from government
requisition. During that period, many of the vessels belonging to
the yacht club members had been commandeered for excursions
by the Americans at the hotel. This summer the beach in front of
it had been thrown open to public use, clearing the air, some
hoped, of long-standing grievances.
It was evening when they arrived at the hotel. In the grass­
covered garden five or six tables with chairs were set out. The
colorful beach umbrellas attached to the tables were folded like
cypress trees. The turnout was still poor. A loudspeaker on an
R-- Chewing Gum billboard was blaring a popular song. At
intervals it would repeat an announcement about a lost child
and cleverly work in a commercial pitch : "We have a lost child !
We have a lost child! He is about three years old and has the
name Kenji in his sailor cap. Wm. those looking for this boy
please report below the R-- Chewing Gum sign?"
When the three men finished eating, twilight had enshrouded
the lawn tables. The patrons were suddenly gone; the loud­
speaker was silent. All that remained was the sound of waves.
Kawada left his seat. Between the old man and Yuichi there fell
a silence that had become habitual now.
Mter a time Shunsuke spoke.
"You've changed."
"Is that so?"
"You certainly have. It frightens me. I had a hunch it would
happen. I had a hunch that sometime the day must come that
the person you were would disappear. Because you are radium.
You are a radioactive substance. Now that I think about it, I

[ 317 ]
 FORBIDDEN C O LORS

have feared it for a long time. Still, to a certain extent, you are
the person you were before. So now, I think, we should part
company."
The word "part" made the youth laugh. " 'Part,' you say? You
make it seem as if there was something between us up to now,
sir."
"Surely there has been something. Do you doubt it?"
"I only understand you in the vulgar sense."
"There I That expression wouldn't have been used by the old
you."
"In that case, I'd better keep quiet."
Yuichi was not aware of the long-standing perplexity and the
deep deliberation that these casual words of the author ex­
pressed. Shunsuke �xhaled deeply in the darkness.
There was indeed in Shunsuke Hinoki a profound perplexity
about his own creation. This perplexity had its abysses, and it
had its vistas. If he were a young man, he would soon have
recovered from his perplexity. To him at his age, however, the
value of that awakening was doubtful. Is not awakening an even
deeper delusion? Where are we going? Why do we wish to wake
up? Since humanity is an illusion, is not the supremely wise
awakening the erection of well-disciplined, logical, artificial illu­
sions in the midst of this greater, highly complicated, uncontrol­
lable illusion? The will not to awaken, the will not to recover,
now maintained Shunsuke's health.
His love for Yuichi was part of that perplexity. He worried; he
suffered. The well-known irony of the formal beauty of his work,
the spiritual pain and confusion expended in disciplining his
emotions , and yet the irony that only through that disciplining
would a final, real confession of the pain and the confusion be
attained--'-all these struggled in him now. By holding fast to the
course he had planned at the beginning, he maintained the right
and the initiative of confession. If love went so far as to take
away his right of confession as the artist saw it, the love he had
not confessed would not exist.
Yuichi's transformation, in Shunsuke's sharp eyes, had
sketched out this dangerous possibility.
"It hurts, but at any rate . . . " Shunsuke's voice, hoarse with
age, came from the darkness, "even though it hurts me more
than I can express, Yuchan, I think for the time being we'd
better not see each other. Up till now you were the one to cavil

( 3I8 ]
 Sobering Summer

about whether you would see me. You were the one who would
not meet me. Now it is I saying we should not meet. If ever the
necessity arises, however, if for some reason it becomes neces­
sary to see me, then I will meet with you gladly. Now, I suppose
you don't think that necessity will arise . . ."
"No."
"
"That's what you think, but . . .
Shunsuke's hand touched Yuichi's as it lay on the armrest.
Though it was midsummer, Shunsuke's hand was extremely cold.
"At any rate, we won't meet again until then."
"All right-if that's what you wish, sir."
Fishing torches flickered in the offing. Conscious that they
would probably not have th� opportunity again for a time, they
fell into their familiar, uncomfortable silence.
The yellow of Kawada's shirt appeared in the darkness, pre­
ceded by a boy in white with beer and glasses on a silver tray.
Shunsuke tried to seem unconcerned. When Kawada revived the
argument that had been going on earlier, Shunsuke responded
with the air of a cynic. It seemed as if no one knew where this
argument, with all its moot points, would end, but after a time
the increasing cold drove the three into the hotel lobby.
That night Kawada and Yuichi planned to stay at the hotel.
Kawada urged Shunsuke, too, to stay over in the separate room
reserved for him, but he firmly declined. There was no alterna­
tive but to have the chauffeur drive Shunsuke back to Tokyo. In
the car, the old author's knee throbbed painfully under the
camel-hair blanket. The driver heard him cry out once and
stopped the car in surprise. Shunsuke told him not to worry and
to drive on. From an inner pocket he withdrew his favorite medi­
cine, the morphine preparation Pavinal, and took some. The
drug made him drowsy, but it relieved his spiritual pain. His
mind, dwelling on nothing at all, engrossed itself in the mean­
ingless process of counting the road lights. His anti-heroic heart
recalled the strange story that Napoleon on the march never
could keep himself from counting the windows along the road.

[ 3I9 )
 CHAPTER 27

I N TE R M E Z Z O

MINOR U WATANABE was seventeen. His eyes \Vere gentle in

his regular, fair, round face; his smile, complete with dimples,
was beautiful. He was a sophomore in a certain new-system
high school. One of the great bombings late in the war,
on March tenth, had reduced to ashes the downtown grocery
store that was his family home. His parents and his younger
sister were burned to death. Only Minoru survived. He was
brought to the home of relatives in Setagaya. The head of that
family was a clerk in the Welfare Ministry, for whom it was not
easy to assume the added expense of even the single small mouth
of Minoru.
When 1\finoru was sixteen he secured, in answer to an adver­
tisement, a job in a coffee shop. After school he would go there
and cheerfully work the five or six hours until ten o'clock. Before
examinations he was pennitted to go home at seven. His pay was
good; one had to admit that Minoru had found a good job.
Not only that, Minoru's boss became extremely interested in
him. His name was Fukujiro Honda. He was a fortyish, woefully'
thin , quiet, upright man. His wife had left him five or six years
earlier, and he still lived alone on the second floor above the
shop. One day he called on Minoru's uncle in Setagaya and asked
if he might adopt Minoru. The uncle did not have to think twice.
The adoption proceedings were quickly completed; Minoru's
surname became Honda.
Minoru still helped out in the shop once in a while, but that
was only because he found it interesting. He lived his student
life as he pleased ; once in a while he would go with his foster

[ 320 ]
 Intermezzo

father to dine, or to the theater, or to the movies. Fukujiro liked

the traditional theater, but when he went out with Minoru he
patiently watched the noisy comedies or the westerns Minoru
loved. He bought Minoru boy's clothes for winter and summer.
He bought him skates. For Minoru, this life was something he
had never known ; his uncle's children, when they happened to
visit him, envied him.
Meanwhile a change had come about in Minoru's character.
His smiling face did not change, but a love for solitude devel­
oped in him. For instance, when he went to a Pachinko pinball
parlor, he preferred to go alone. Occasions when he should h ave
been studying, he would go and stand in front of a Pachinko
m achine for hours on end. He didn't associate particularly with
his school friends.
His still tender sensibilities were pervaded by unbearable
fears and revulsions. Somewhat different from the average boys
who faced degradation, he shivered at the visions of his future
depravity. He burned with the fixed idea that, no matter what,
he would come to no good. At night, when he saw the physiog­
nomists sitting under their dim lights in the shadow of a bank or
the like, he was filled with fright. Surely a future of bad luck,
crime, and evil was visible on his forehead, he thought as he
hurried by.
Minoru loved, however, his own clear, smiling face ; his future
seemed reflected in the pure white line of his teeth when he
laughed. His eyes belied his depravity and were even beautiful
in their purity. The form that sprang from mirrors at unexpected
angles on street corners also showed a fine, boyish neck, neatly
barbered. He felt then that he could be at ease so long as his
external appearance did not alter, but that respite did not con­
fume for long.
He tried sake, he immersed himself in detective stories, he also
learned to smoke. The fragrant smoke coursing luxuriously
through his lungs m ade him feel as i£ a still unformed, not yet
known sense was reaching for expression out of the depths of
him . On days when he was distraught by self-revulsion, he
prayed that war would start again ; he dreamed of the great city
wrapped in conflagration. In the midst of that holocaust he felt
he might meet his dead parents and sister again.
He loved the momentary excitements and at the same time the
hopeless starry nights. He practically wore out a pair of shoes in

( ]2I )
 FORBIDDEN C O L O RS

three months, wandering from neighborhood to neighborhood at

night.
He would return from school, eat supper, and change to flashy
boyish sport clothes . He would not show his face in the coffee
shop until the middle of the evening. His foster father was wor·
ried and secretly followed him, but his certainty that the boy
went everywhere alone appeased any jealousy he might feel. Out
of that relief and the sad knowledge that, separated by years as
they were, he was not the person the boy would have fun with,
he withheld his complaints and let him do as he pleased.
One day during the summer vacation, when the sky was filled
with clouds and it was too cool to go to the beach, Minoru put
on a red aloha shirt with a white palm tree design and set out
with the pretext of a trip to the house in Setagaya. The red shirt
went well with the boy's fair skin.
He thought he might enjoy the zoo. He got off the subway at
Ueno Station and came out under the statue of Saigo-san. At
that moment the sun broke from behind clouds. The high granite
staircase gleamed.
He lit a cigarette on the way up the stairs. The flame of the
match was hardly visible in the bright sunlight. Brimming with
the joy of being alone, he almost flew up the rest of the stairs.
Few people were in Ueno Park. He bought a ticket with a
colored picture of a sleeping lion and walked through the gate.
Minoru paid no heed to the arrows marking the circuit. He let
his feet take him wherever they would. In the heat the odor of
the animals seemed as deeply intimate as the smell of his own
bedding.
The giraffe cage appeared before him From the giraffe's con­
.

templative face, along his neck and toward his back, the shadow
of a cloud descended. The sun was hidden. The giraffe brushed
away flies with his tail as he moved. He took each step as if it
had staggered the imagination of the artisan who put his great
skeleton together. Then Minoru saw the polar bear sweltering in
the heat, madly plunging into the water and flopping back on his
concrete perch , over and over.
He carne to a certain path and found a place where he could
look out across Shinobazu Pond.
Automobiles glittered by on the road around the edge of the
pond. From the clock tower of Tokyo University in the west to

[ 322 ]
 Intermezzo

the Ginza crossroads toward the south, here and there the un­
even horizon reflected the summer sun. A building white as a
matchbox shone like quartz. An advertising balloon for an Ueno
department store hung languidly in the air, its roundness dis­
torted by gas leakage. It hovered just above the dismal building
of the department store itself.
Here was Tokyo. Here was a sentimental view of the metropo­
lis. The myriad streets the youth had so diligently traversed all
lay concealed within this panorama. Many nights of wandering
were wiped away without a trace in this clear scene. Yet there
was not a vestige of freedom from the inexplicable fears that
haunted his dreams.
A streetcar that wound around the edge of the pond from the
direction of Shichikencho rumbled beneath his feet. Minoru
went back again to look at the zoo.
The smell of the animals arose from the distance. The most
smelly place was the hippopotamus house. The male hippo,
Deca, and the female, Zabu, wallowed in the dirty water with
only their snouts showing. To either side of them was the wet
floor of the cage. Two rats went in and out of the cage, heading
for the grain box when the keeper was away.
The elephant pulled hay a bunch at a time and stuffed it into
his mouth. Before he had finished chewing one he would gather
the next. Once in a while he would take too much, and then he
would lift his pillar of a front leg and crush the rest to the
floor.
The penguins looked like so many people at a cocktail party.
Each of them looked in whatever direction he pleased, and now
and then stuck a wing out away from his body and shook his
backside.
The civet cats, two deep on their perch about a foot above a
.floor littered with the red chicken heads they fed on, gazed
languidly in Minoru's direction.
Minoru found pleasure in seeing the pair of lions ; now he
thought he might go home. The popsicle he had been sucking
was almost gone. Then he realized that there was a small build­
ing near him that he had not yet seen. He went nearer and saw
it was the small bird pavilion. The window panes, shaped like
stylized chameleons, were broken in a few places.
There was no one in the bird pavilion but a man in a snow-

[ 323 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

white polo shirt, who had his back to :Minoru.

:Minoru chewed a slice of gum and looked at a bird whose
white bill was bigger than its head. The interior of the building,
less than forty yards square, resounded with strange, rau­
cous cries, like the jungle birds in a Tarzan movie , Minoru
thought. He looked about to see what bird owned it, and saw it
was a parrot. Parrots and parakeets outnumbered the other birds
in the small pavilion. The coloring of the wings of the red dia­
mond parakeets was particularly beautiful. The white parrots
had all turned their heads and with one wing around the feeding
box were hammering away with their hard bills as if they were
indeed hammers.
:Minoru walked in front of the mynah bird cage. This bird,
black of wing, only his face yellow, held his perch with dirty
yellow legs. He opened his red bill and, as :Minoru wondered
what sound he would utter, said, "Hello !"
Minoru answered with a smile. The youth in the white polo
shirt near him smiled too and turned in :Minoru's direction. Since
Minoru's head came to about the youth's eyebrows, the youth
had to look downward slightly. Their eyes met and held. Each
was surprised by the beauty of the other. The movement of
Minoru's gum-chewing ceased.
"Hello," the mynah bird s aid again. "Hello," the youth said,
mimicking. Minoru laughed.
The stranger withdrew his gaze from the cage and lit a ciga­
rette. Not to be outdone, :Minoru took a crumpled package of
foreign cigarettes from his pocket, hurriedly spat out his chew­
ing gum, and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. The youth lit a
match and offered a light.
"Do you smoke, too ? " the youth asked, surprised.
"Yeah. We're not allowed to at school, though."
"What school?"
"N-- Academy."
"And 1-" The youth named a famous private university.
"May I ask your name?"
"Minoru."
"My first name will be enough, too : Yuichi." The two left the
bird pavilion and s tarted walking.
"Your red aloha looks nice," Yuichi said. Minoru flushed.

[ 324 ]
 Intermezzo

They talked of many things. Minoru was charmed by

Yuichi's youth, his artless conversation, and his beauty. He con­
ducted Yuichi to the animal cages that he had seen and Yuichi
had not. In about ten minutes they had become like brothers.
This man is one of them, thought Minoru. But just the same
how nice it is that so pretty a man should be one of them. I like
this man's voice, his laughter, the movement of his body, his
whole body, his smell, everything. I hope we can sleep together
soon. With this man I would do anything, let him do anything. I
think he'd like what I have for him. He put his hand in his
pocket and deftly changed the position of something that was
suddenly causing him pain. He felt better. He found a stick of
chewing gum in his pocket, took it out, and popped it in his
mouth.
"Have ·you seen the martens? Haven't you seen them yet?"
Minoru took Yuichi by the hand and led him toward the foul­
smelling cages. They kept their hands linked together.
In front of the cage of the Tsushima marten hung a placard
explaining, among other things, the habits of the animal : "Early
in the morning or at night he is active in the camellia groves
sucking the nectar of the blossoms." There were three of the
little yellow animals. One of them stuck the comb of one of the
red chicken heads in his mouth and looked warily at the visitors.
The eyes of those watching met the eyes of the animal. The eyes
outside were certainly looking at a marten, but it was not neces­
sarily true that the marten was looking at human beings. Yuichi
and Minoru, however, felt that they loved the eyes of a marten
more than they loved human eyes.
The backs of their necks became very warm-the sun was
already descending, but its rays were still fierce. Minoru looked
behind him. There was nobody around. Thirty minutes after
they had met, they kissed lightly and naturally. Now I am very
happy, Minoru thought. This boy had been taught nothing but
sexual happiness. The world was splendid; there was no one
there-only dead silence.
The roar of the lion shook the air. Yuichi lifted his eyes and
said : "Oh l We're in for a shower."

[ 32s ]
 FORBIDDEN C O L O R S

They noticed the gathering clouds. The sun was soon ob­
scured. When they got to the subway s tation, the first drops were
striking the pavement. They got into the train. "Where are you
going?" said Minoru, uneasily, as if he were being left behind.
They got off at the station by the shrine. From there they went
by streetcar along a different road, which incidentally showed
no trace of rain, to the inn in Takagicho where Yuichi had been
taken some time ago by the student from his college.

Possessed by the sensual memories of that occasion,

Minoru manufactured excuses that kept his foster father at a
distance. Fukujiro had no way that he could fill this boy with
visions.
He took good care of his relationships within the neighbor­
hood, and when there was a misfortune there, the devout Fuku­
jiro would wrap up a votive offering and set out for the temple.
Then he would sit for a long time silently before the Buddha,
paying no attention to the other mourners. There was in his
wasted frame, so devoid of charm, something that gave the im­
pression of bad luck.
Somehow he could not surrender his place at the counter of
the coffee shop to someone else. But it was not a wise policy in
this student neighborhood to have such an unsociable old codger
at the cash register all day. Even his regular customers would
have left him if they had seen him assiduously going over the
day's receipts for a full hour every night after closing.
Meticulousness and niggardliness were the substance of Fuku­
jiro's religious zeal. If the sliding doors were left slightly open, or
even if the door pulls supposed to be on the left and the right
somehow turned up in the middle, he had to get up right away
and fix them. Fukujiro's uncle came from the country and or­
dered rice and eels for supper. Minoru was aghast to see Fuku­
jiro exact the price of the meal from his uncle.
One could not compare young Yuichi's body with that of
Fukujiro, who was nearly forty. Not only that, Yuichi was to
Minoru a vision of the hero out of so many action movies and
the daring youth of adventure stories. Everything that Minoru
wished to be he saw embodied in Yuichi. Shunsuke had used
Yuichi as the material of a work he dreamed of; but Minoru used

[ 326 ]
 Intermezzo

countless old tales as the material of a dream of Yuichi.

Yuichi would turn his head sharply-in the boy's eyes he had
turned his head in order to defend himself against the terrible
onslaughts of young villains. Minoru fancied himself to be the
boy companion sure to be accompanying such a hero. He was
confident in the very depths of him in the courage of his master.
He was a pure servant who felt that when be died it would be
with his master. As a result, it was not love he manifested so
much as sexual loyalty, the joy of imaginary renunciation and
self-sacrifice. What he exhibited was a perfectly natural boyish
propensity to dream. In his dreams one night, Minoru saw
Yuichi and himself on the battlefield. Yuichi was the beautiful
young officer; Minoru was his beautiful boy orderly. The two
were simultaneously struck in the chest by rifle bullets and died
embracing, their lips locked in a kiss. Another time Yuichi was a
young seaman; Minoru was a boy sailor. The two landed on an
island in the torrid zone, and while they were there the ship, at
the order of the crafty c aptain, set sail. There on the island the
two castaways were attacked by savages. They warded off
countless poison arrows fired from the bushes, using a great
scallop shell for a shield.
Thus a night the two spent together was a fabulous night.
Around them swirled the night of a gigantic, hostile world. Vil­
lains and bitter enemies and savages and assassins prayed for
their misfortune. The eyes of adversaries who would shout for
joy if they died were outside, peering through the dark window
panes. Minoru was sad that he could not sleep with a pistol
under his pillow. What would he do if some scoundrel had hid­
den himself in the wardrobe and was opening the door a crack
and taking dead aim at the sleeping forms of the two with a
revolver? He could not help feeling that Yuichi, sleeping undis­
turbed by these fancies, had courage beyond that of other men.
The unreasoning fear from which Minoru had longed to
escape suddenly was transformed into a sweet, fabulous fear
that made him feel only the joy of living under its influence.
When he carne upon articles in newspapers about opium smug­
gling and secret societies, he would read them avidly, thinking
that each was an incident involving themselves.
Yuichi had been slightly infected by these proclivities in the
boy. The stubborn bias against society that Yuichi once held­
and still held-was in this dreamer something to encourage fan-

[ 327 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

tasies, romantic enmities, romanesque perils, plebeian defenses

against justice and nobility, the unyielding, reasonless prejudice
of the rabble. When he saw this, Yuichi felt better. When he
realized, moreover, the source of these inspirations-that it was
he, Yuichi, nothing else-he was amazed at his own intangible
power. "Those guys"-the only term by which the boy referred
to society-"are after us, aren't they? \Ve've got to watch out,"
Minoru liked to say. "Those guys would like to see us dead!"
"What do you mean ? Those guys don't give a damn. They
hold their noses and pass us by, that's all," said his realistic
protector, sLx years his senior. His opinion, however, did not
convince 1\linoru.
"Cripes l Women, now"-Minoru spat toward a group of girl
students going by. Then he threw out words of sexual vitupera­
tion that he had learned only recently, so that the girls could
hear: "Women, now, what are they? All they have tucked away
between their legs is a smelly, dirty pocket, ain't that right? And
all they've got stuffed in that pocket is rubbish."
Yuichi, who of course was keeping his wife a secret, smiled at
this remark.
The walks that he had formerly taken alone Minoru now took
with Yuichi. Everywhere about the dark street comers imaginary
assassins lurked. Without a sound, the assassins were treading
close behind the two of them. Giving them the slip, or teas­
ing them, or playing practical jokes on these nonexistent adver­
s aries was Minoru's favorite pastime.
"'Look, Yuchan l" Minoru proposed a prank that would cer­
tainly result in their being followed. He took the wad of gum
from his mouth and stuck it to the door handle of a foreigner's
shiny car at the curb. This accomplished, he acted as if he
didn't know a thing about it and hurried Yuichi away.
One evening Yuichi went with Minoru to the roof of the Ginza
Hot Springs for beer. Having downed one, the boy proffered his
glass for a second. The evening breeze on the roof was quite
cool; their shirts, which had stuck to their backs with sweat,
started billowing in the breeze like hoods. Red, yellow, and
water-green lanterns swung above the dark dance floor as two or
three couples took turns to the guitar music. Yuichi and Minoru,
although they wished to dance, did not join them. It was difficult
for men friends to dance together here. They looked on fixedly at
the fun the others were having and, caught up in the activity,

[ 32 8 ]
 Intermezzo

left their seats to lean against the railing. The gleam of the street
enveloped the summer evening. In the south there was a dark
shadow among the populated areas. They decided it must be the
forest of the Hama Detached Palace Park. As they looked idly in
the direction of that forest, Yuichi put his ann about Minoru's
shoulders. From the midst of the forest a glow began to rise.
Fireworks spread out from a great green ball, then with a noise
like thunder turned yellow, then collapsed into pink parasol
shapes, then shattered and went out, and all was silent.
"Pretty, isn't it, like that?" said Minoru. He paraphrased a
passage he had read in a detective story : "If you took everybody
in the world and sent them up in fireworks and killed them-all
the guys that cause trouble, one at a time, and made fireworks of
them and killed them-there'd be only Yuichi and me left in the
whole world l"
"Then who would have the children?"
"Who needs children? If we got married and had kids, the
kids would grow up and make fools of us, or if not that, they'd
become just like us, that's all."
These words sent a shiver through Yuichi. He felt that divine
intervention had made Yasuko's child a female. The youth
grasped Minoru's shoulder gently. In this rebellious spirit that
lay within Minoru's soft boyish cheek and his pure smile, Yuichi
somehow usually found balm for his basically uneasy nature. As
a result, their sympathies strengthened the sensual tie between
them and in turn cultivated the most essential elements, as well
as the most decent elements, of their friendship. The boy's imagi­
nativeness pulled at the youth's doubts and pertinaciously set
them in motion. Thus, even Yuichi was plunged into infantile
dreams. One night, for instance, he kept himself awake earnestly
imagining that he had set out on an exploring expedition into the
upper reaches of the Amazon.
When it was quite late they went to the boathouse on the
shore across from the Tokyo Theater, intending to take a boat
ride. The boats were all moored at the dock, the light in the
boathouse shack was extinguished, its Nanking lock tightly fast­
ened. There was nothing to do but sit down on the boards of the
dock and let their legs dangle over the water, and smoke. The
Tokyo Theater across the way was closed. The Shimbashi Play­
house, on the other side of the bridge at the right, was closed
too. The water reflected h ardly any light. No more remnants of

[ 3 2 !) ]
 F O R B I D D E N COL ORS

the heat, it seemed, would rise from that dark, still surface.
Minoru thrust out his forehead : "Look, I have prickly heat l"
He showed Yuicbi the faint red signs. This boy showed every­
thing to his lover : his notebooks, his shirts, his books, his socks
-whatever new thing be was wearing.
Suddenly Minoru burst out laughing. Yuicbi looked at the
dark path along the river near the Tokyo Theater to see what
was making him laugh . An old man in a bath garment had fallen
off his bicycle and lay on the path beside it. He had landed on
his hip, perhaps, and could not get up.
"A fine thing, riding a bike at his age. I wish he'd fallen in the
river."
His happy laughter and his cruel teeth, white and luminous in
the darkness, were beautiful. Yuichi could not help thinking of
the ways beyond imagination that Minoru was like himself.
"You must be living with a steady boy friend. How do you
manage to stay out so late and get away with it?"
"I suppose his weak point is that he's in love with me. And be's
become my foster father to boot. It's legal."
There was something laughable in the word "legal" coming
from this boy's mouth. Minoru went on : "You h ave a steady boy
friend, too, I guess."
"Yes, but only an old man."
"I'll go kill that old man."
"No use. He's one you can kill and be won't die."
"Why, now, do young, pretty, gay fellows all have to be some­
body's prisoner?"
"It's more convenient so."
"They buy you clothes and give you all kinds of money. And
you get attached to them, even though you bate them." As be
said this the boy spat a great white wad of saliva into the river.
Yuichi put his arm around Minoru's waist. Then be brought
his lips close to the boy's cheek and kissed him.
"That's awful," said Minoru, kissing him back unrestrainedly.
"You kiss me and I get an erection. Then I don't want to go
home."
Mter a time Minoru said : "Ah, a cicada!" Through the still­
ness that followed after a trolley car bad thundered over the
bridge, the mincing, tangled voice of the night cicada threaded
its way. There was not much foliage in the area. The cicada
must have blundered out of a park somewhere. It flew low over

[ 33 0 ]
 Intermezzo

the surface of the river, then headed for the lights of the bridge
on the right, where tiger moths were flitting about.
Thus the night sky came irresistibly into their eyes. It was a
splendid starry sky, returning its brilliance to the street glare
unflinchingly. Yet Yuichi's nostrils were full of the stench of the
river, close to whose surface their shoes dangled. He really liked
this boy, but he could not help thinking that people talk of love
as if they were ditch rats.

Fukujiro Honda had begun to entertain definite suspicions

about Minoru . The heat was terrible. One night when sleep was
difficult, he was reading a samurai adventure magazine under
the mosquito netting, unhappily waiting for the tardy Minoru to
come home. His head was filled with mad thoughts. At one
o'clock in the morning, he heard the back door opening, then the
sound of shoes being removed. Fukujiro turned off the light by
his pillow.
The light went on in the adjoining room. Minoru seemed to be
undressing. Then an interminable period of time passed by while
Minoru, it seemed, sat naked at the window, smoking. Thin
smoke, glinting with lamplight, was visible rising above the
room partitions .
Minoru had slipped naked into the mosquito netting in his
room and was about to get into bed. His body was suddenly
pinned by Fukujiro's body. He had a rope coiled in his hand,
with which he bound Minoru's hands. Then he passed the rest of
the long rope several times around Minoru's chest. All the while
Minoru struggled silently, his cries muffled by a pillow pressed
against his face and held there by Fukujiro's forehead as he
worked to tie the boy.
The tying was :finally done, and Minoru pleaded half-audibly
from under the pillow: "Ouch ! You're killing me. I won't yell;
just take away the pillow."
So that the boy could not flee, Fukujiro straddled his body. He
took away the pillow, but kept his right hand near Minoru's face
in case he cried out. With his left hand he grasped the boy's hair
and, giving it small tugs, said : "All right, let's have it ! Who's the
d ark horse you're stepping out with ? Come on, out with it !"
Minoru was suffering. His hair was being pulled; his bare

[ 331 J
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

chest and arms were chafed b y the rope. Yet even with Fuku­
jiro's old-fashioned accusation ringing in his ears , this fanciful
youth never once imagined that the ever dependable Yuicbi
would arrive here to rescue him. He thought of practical ruses
that he had been taught by worldly experience.
"Stop pulling my hair and I'll tell you," Minoru groaned.
When Fukujiro let go his grip, the boy slumped as i£ dead.
Fukujiro was seized with panic and shook the boy's shoulders.
"This rope is killing me," Minoru gasped. "Untie the rope and I'll
tell you." Fukujiro turned on the light at the head of the bed. He
untied the rope. Minoru applied his lips to the sore places on his
wrists. He kept his head down and said nothing.
The momentum of Fukujiro's faint-hearted outburst was by
this time half-spent. He saw Minoru's :finnness, and thinking
now to bring him around by tears, he bowed his head to the
floor before the naked boy who s at cross-legged and begged
forgiveness for his violent behavior. On the boy's white chest
the pink rope m arks were still visible. Naturally, this theatrical
display of pain, too, had an indeterminate ending.
Fukujiro feared having his own conduct discovered, so he
decided against c alling in a private detective agency. Beginning
the next evening, however, he neglected the shop and again
went on the trail of the one he loved. He found no trace of
Minoru. He gave some money to a trusted waiter and set him to
the task. This clever, faithful fellow reported triumphantly that
he had seen the face of Minoru's companion and had been able
to ascertain that he was named Yuchan.
Fukujiro went about to the various hangouts, which he had
not visited for a long time. One of his old acquaintances who
had not yet freed himself of his bad h abits came by, and, taking
him along, Fukujiro was able to inquire about Yuchan's identity
at many quiet coffeehouses and bars.
Yuichi was under the impression that his own affairs were not
known beyond a very small circle, but in this inquisitive little
society which had nothing to talk about but itself, intimate in­
formation concerning him had spread far and wide.
The middle-aged men of that street were jealous of Yuichi's
beauty. They were willing to admit that they would be happy to
make love to him, but this youth's cold way of turning people
away plunged them into jealousy. The same was true of young

[ 332 ]
 Intermezzo

men not so beautiful as Yuichi. Fukujiro easily garnered a num­

ber of details about him.
In the prattle of these persons the malice of women abounded.
When it came to information they did not have, they would
display a paranoiac kindness and introduce Fukujiro to some
other individual in possession of new gossip. Fukujiro would
meet with that person, who would then introduce him to an­
other, who would also put himself out gossiping. In a short time,
Fukujiro met ten men he had never seen before.
If be had known about it, Yuichi would have been amazed.
Not only was his relationship with Count Kaburagi discussed,
but even his affair with Kawada, who was so careful about ap­
pearances, was bandied about in detail. Fukujiro relentlessly
searched out everything from the identity of Yuichi's in-laws to
his home address and telephone number. When he returned to
his shop, he pondered various low stratagems that cowardice
leads men into.

[ 333 ]
 CHAP TER 28

H A IL S T O N E S
F R O M A C L E A R S KY

EVEN WHEN YUICHI'S FATHER WAS ALIVE, the Minami

family did not have a cottage. His father did not like to be tied
down to the same place whether avoiding the heat or avoiding
the cold, so while he, always busy, remained in Tokyo, his wife
and child spent summers in hotels in Karuizawa, Hakone , and
the like, and he visited them on weekends. At Karuizawa they
had many friends, and summers passed there were busy. About
that time, however, Yuichi's mother noticed his predilection for
being by himself. Her beautiful son, his age, his robust health,
and his physique notwithstanding, preferred to spend summers
in Kamikochi or places where he would meet as few acquaint­
ances as possible, rather than Karuizawa, where he had com­
pany all the time.
Even when the war became intense, the Minami family was
not in a hurry to evacuate. The head of the family was not
concerned about anything like that. A few months before the air
raids started, in the summer of 1944 , Yuichi's father died at his
Tokyo home of a cerebral hemorrhage. His resolute widow re­
fused to give in to the urging of those around her and stood her
ground in her Tokyo residence , guarding her husband's ashes.
Perhaps her spiritual power threw the fear of God into the in­
cendiary bombs; the house was still standing when the war
ended.
If they had had a cottage, they could have sold it at a high

[ 334 ]
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

price and tided themselves over the postwar inflation. Yuichi's

father's estate, besides the present house, amounted in 1944 to
2,ooo,ooo yen in savings, negotiable securities, and personal
effects. The widow was only upset that she would have to sell
her valuable jewels to a broker for a song in order to get through
the emergency. She m anaged, however, to get the help of a
former subordinate of her husband, a man who knew his way
around in matters of this kind, who took care of minimizing the
estate tax, then skillfully went through the negotiations over the
securities and the savings accounts and overcame the hazards of
the emergency currency regulations without a hitch . When the
economy was stabilized, they still had a savings account of
70o,ooo yen and the economic acumen of Yuichi, brought up in
this confused period. Then the kind adviser left this world with
the same illness as Yuichi's father. His mother blithely turned
over the household accounts to her old maidservant, whose old­
fashioned incompetence, and Yuichi's amazement when he
found the crisis she had precipitated, has already been told.
For these reasons the Minami family had no opportunity to
take summer vacations after the war. An invitation from Ya­
suko's family, who had a cottage at Karuizawa, to spend the
summer there made Yuichi's mother h appy, but fear of leaving
Tokyo and her attending physician even for a day stifled her joy.
She told the young couple : "Why don't you take the baby and
go?" This suggestion was made, however, so glumly that Yasuko
considerately announced that it would not do for her to leave
her sick mother-in-law alone. That reply was just what the
mother-in-law wished; it made the old lady very happy.
When guests came, Yasuko greeted them with fans, cold
towels, and cold drinks. Her mother-in-law praised highly the
filial devotion of her daughter-in-law, which made Yasuko blush.
It was enough to make Yasuko fear that guests would think these
goings-on a mere manifestation of her mother-in-law's egoism.
She fabricated irrational explanations, such as that she was
really trying to get the newborn baby acclimated to the hot
Tokyo summer. Keiko perspired and developed prickly heat, so
she was always sprinkled with talcum powder, which made her
look like candy dusted with confectioners' sugar.
Yuichi's free and independent spirit hated favors from his
in-laws, and opposed accepting the offer of a summer vacation.

[ 33) ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

Yasuko was schooled in the gentle ar t o f politics and concealed

her sympathy with her husband's feelings behind the fa�ade of
filial piety toward her mother-in-law.
The family passed the summer days peacefully; Kei.ko's pres­
ence made them forget the heat. She still did not know how to
smile, though, and never once broke her earnest, animal expres­
sion. She had begun to show an interest in the turning move­
ments and the rattling noise of her windmill at about the time
she was first taken to the shrine. Among her presents there was
also a music box, which came in handy.
The music box came from Holland, a model of an old-time
farmhouse with a front yard fille d with flowering tulips. When
you opened the front door a woman in Dutch dress, wearing a
white apron and holding a watering can, came out and stood in
the doorway. While the door was open thus, the music box
played. The tune seemed to be a strange, countrified, Dutch
folksong.
Yasuko liked to play the music box for Keiko on the pleasantly
breezy second floor. On summer afternoons, her husband, weary
with homework that dragged on and on, would join in playing
with his wife and child. At such times the breeze coming
through the garden trees and blowing through the room toward
the northeast seemed even cooler.
"She understands, doesn't she? Look, she's listening !" Yasuko
said.
Yuichi studied the infant's expression. This baby has only in­
sides, he thought. To her the outside world hardly exists. To her
the outside world is her mother's nipple in her mouth when her
stomach is empty, the vague alternations of light between night
and day, the beautiful movements of the windmill, or the soft
monotone of her rattle and the music box; nothing else. When it
comes to her insides, though, well now! The instincts, the his­
tory, and the heredity of the first woman are combined in her,
and later she will only have to spread them like a water flower in
its wet environment. Only the task of making a flower bloom will
remain. I shall bring her up as a woman among women, a
beauty among beauties.
The scientific method of raising children, with its fixed feeding
times, was going out now, so when Keiko became peevish and
cried, Yasuko soon gave her the breast. Her breasts, naked and
exposed in the bodice of her thin summer dress, were very beau-

[ 3; 6 ]
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

ti£ul. The blue line of the veins ran clear in a circle about the
delicate, white skin. When bare, however, her breasts were al­
ways perspiring, like fruit ripening in a hothouse. Before she
cleaned the nipples with a piece of gauze soaked in boric acid
solution, Yasuko always had to wipe away the perspiration with
a towel. Before the child's lips could reach out for them her
breasts were already dripping. They were always hurting from
being overfull.
Yuichi looked at those breasts. He looked at the swnmer
clouds floating by the window. The cicadas buzzed incessantly,
so that at times the listening ear forgot the racket. When Keiko
had finished nursing, she slept under her mosquito netting.
Yuichi and Yasuko looked at each other and smiled.
Suddenly Yuichi was struck by a jarring sensation. Was not
this what we call happiness? Or was it nothing more than the
helpless relief of seeing what you have feared come to pass,
before your eyes-fulfilled. He felt the shock and sat as if
stunned. He was amazed at the certainty to all outward appear­
ances that all the end results were before his eyes-at the inno­
cence of it.
A few days later, his mother suffered a sudden setback. To
make matters worse, she, who usually would have sent at once
for the doctor, now stubbornly refused treatment. That this talk­
ative old widow should go all day without opening her mouth
was strange, one had to admit. That evening, Yuichi ate dinner
at home. When he saw the color of his mother's skin, her twitch­
ing expression when she tried to smile, and her almost complete
lack of appetite, he postponed his departure.
"Why aren't you going out this evening?" she said with studied
pleasantness to her son, who seemed to be lingering around the
house forever. "Don't worry about me. I'm not sick. If you need
proof of it, I'm the one who knows best about my own condition.
If I don't feel right, I'll call the doctor. I'm not afraid to bother
anybody."
Yuichi, however, made no move to go, so the next morning the
sagacious woman changed her tactics. From morning on, she
was in high spirits.
"What about yesterday?" she said to Kiyo in a loud voice.
"Yesterday, for all I know, was proof that I haven't graduated
from the menopause yet."
The night before she had slept almost not at all, but the state

[ 337 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

of excitement brought about by lack of sleep, and the fact that

her mind had churned all night long, showed this great act of
hers to good advantage. After supper Yuichi went out free of
worry.
"Call me a taxi, please," she said to Kiyo. "111 tell him where I
want to go when I get in the c ar."
Kiyo started to get ready to go with her, but the old lady
restrained her, saying : "I don't need anyone with me. I'm going
alone."
"But, ma'am-" Kiyo was thunderstruck. Since Yuichi's
mother had become ill, she had almost never gone out alone.
"Is my going out alone so strange ? Don't take me for the
Empress Dowager, now, please ! Didn't I go to the hospital alone
the other day when Yasuko had the baby? It didn't matter
then."
"Yes, but then there was nobody but me to mind the house.
And don't you remember that you promised me yourself that you
would never go out alone again?"
Yasuko listened to this argument between mistress and ser­
vant and went to her mother-in-law's room with an anxious look
on her face.
"Mother, I'll go with you if you think it isn't convenient for
Kiyo to go along."
"It's all right, Yasuko ; don't worry"-her voice was gentle, yet
tinged with feeling. It was almost as if she were talking to her
own daughter : "It's a matter of my husband's estate, and there's
someone I must see a little while. I don't like to talk to Yuichi
about things like this. If he comes home before I do, please tell
him that an old friend came by to meet me in his car. If, on the
other hand, he comes home after I do, I won't say anything, and
you and Kiyo please be sure not to say anything either. Promise
me that. I've worked out my own way of dealing with this."
After she had enjoined them to silence, she hurriedly went out
to her taxi and departed. After two hours, she returned in the
same cab. She went to bed, seemingly exhausted. Yuichi came
home very late.
"How is Mother?" he asked.
"Very well. She went to bed much e arlier than usual-about
nine o'clock," Yasuko, faithful to her mother-in-law, answered.
The next evening when Yuichi went out, his mother once more
hired a car and prepared to go out. On this second night, she

[ 33 8 ]
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

stubbornly and silently went through it all again. Kiyo brought

in her Kanze sashpin and flinched as her mistress seized it from
her hand. The old lady's eyes, however, aglow with a threaten­
ing fever, did not so much as notice Kiyo's existence.
For two successive nights she went to Rudon's in Yurakucho,
on the watch for Yuichi as her one and only piece of evidence.
The frightful anonymous letter she had received the day before
yesterday had encouraged her to go herself to the mysterious
restaurant indicated on the enclosed map. She must see with her
own eyes the person in question, as evidence that its information
was not false. She decided to go alone. No matter how deep the
root of the unfortunate thing that was undermining this family,
it was a matter for the mother and her child to resolve. Yasuko
must not be brought into it:
Rudon's was amazed at having this peculiar guest for two
consecutive nights. In the Edo period, the male prostitutes,
while they usually served homosexuals, were commonly patron­
ized by widows. Nowadays, however, that custom was forgotten.
The letter told about the strange customs and the argot of this
place. The widow Minami exerted herself to the utmost, and
succeeded miraculously from the first in acting like a person who
knew her way around. Without in the slightest betraying her
amazement, she mixed sociably. The Master, who came over to
greet her, was charmed by the presence of this refined old woman
and her uninhibited discourse. He could not help trusting her.
Then too, above all, this woman did not seem reluctant about
parting with her money.
"That's a curious customer," said Rudy to his boys. "Look how
old she is; she knows everything. She doesn't seem to be a person
you need to be wary about; the other guests can enjoy them­
selves without worrying about her."
The second floor of Rudon's was at first a bar employing
women, but Rudy changed his policy and fired the women.
Now, beginning early in the evening, men danced together on
the second floor and watched dances by half-clad boys in wom­
en's clothing.
On the first night, Yuichi did not appear. His mother was
determined to wait there on the second evening until he showed
up. She did not like sake, but she offered it unstintingly to the
two or three boys waiting on her table, besides whatever else
they liked. After thirty or forty minutes, there was still no sign of

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 F O R B I D D E N COLORS

Yuichi. Then something one of the boys was saying made her
prick up her ears.
The boy said to his friend : "What's up? Yuchan hasn't been
around for two or three d ays."
"What are you so worried about?" asked the boy he had
spoken to.
''I'm not worried. There's nothing between me and Yuchan."
"That's what you say."
The widow asked casually : "Yuchan must be famous around
here. He's a very h andsome fellow, isn't he?"
"I've got his picture. I'll show it to you," said the boy who had
spoken first.
It took considerable time for him to produce the picture. From
the inside pocket of his waiter's coat he took a dusty, dirty
packet. It was a jumbled bundle of calling cards, ragged folded
slips of paper, several one-yen notes, and even a movie program.
The boy approached a floor lamp and carefully inspected the
articles one by one. The unlucky mother, who did not have the
courage to go over them minutely, closed her eyes.
"Let it be a man who is not at all like Yuichi," she prayed in
her heart. "Then there will still be some room for doubt. I will
have a happy moment of stalling for time. Then I can end up
believing that every line of that awful letter-there being no
evidence-was an outright lie. Let that picture be of a man I
have never seen."
"Here it is ! Here it is !" the boy shouted.
The widow Minami held her presbyopic eyes at a distance and
looked at the calling-card-size photograph in the light of the
standing lamp. The surface of the picture shone in the light and
was hard to see. Finally, at an angle the face of a smiling young
man in a white polo shirt was clearly visible. It was Yuichi.
That was truly a moment to take her breath away, and Mrs.
Minami completely lost all heart to confront her son. The in­
domitable will power she had maintained until then was broken.
Distracted, she handed the photograph back. Her ability to
laugh , to speak, had vanished.
On the stairs there was a sound of footsteps. A new guest was
coming up. Two boy friends who were necking in one of the
booths sprang apart when they saw that the guest was a young
woman. The woman noticed Yuichi's mother and went in her
direction, approaching with serious countenance.

[ 340 ]
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

"Mother," she said.

Mrs. Minami's face went white. She looked up. It was Yasuko.
The rapid conversation that passed between mother-in-law
and daughter-in-law was pitiful to hear. "What are you doing in
a place like this?" the mother asked. Yasuko did not reply. She
only tugged at her to go borne.
"But who would think of meeting you in a place like this?"
"Mother, let's go home. I came to get you."
"How did you know where I went?"
"I'll tell you later. But now let's go horne."
The two quickly paid the check, left the place, and got into
the mother's waiting car.
The widow leaned back on the seat and closed her eyes. The
car started off. Yasuko sat on the edge of the seat and solicitously
watched her.
"You're drenched in perspiration," said Yasuko, wiping her
mother-in-law's forehead with a handkerchief.
Mter a time the widow opened her eyes and said : "I know :
you've read my mail."
"I wouldn't do anything of the sort. I got a thick letter, too­
this morning. Then I knew where you went last night, Mother. I
knew you wouldn't take me with you tonight either, so I started
after you left."
"You got the same letter !"
The widow whimpered like a person in torture. "Yasuko, I beg
your pardon," she said, weeping. Her reasonless apologies and
sobs moved Yasuko and made her cry too. Until the car reached
their borne, the two sympathized with each other in tears. Yet
they exchanged not a word about the real issue.
When they got horne, Yuicbi had not yet returned. The
widow's motive for striving to settle the matter alone had not
been based so much on a heroic resolution to spare Yasuko
anguish as on a sense of humiliation that made her unable to
face her daughter-in-law. Once, therefore , this humiliation had
dissolved in tears, her only confidante, Yasuko, became at the
same time her indispensable aid. The two quickly started com­
paring the letters in a room far away from Kiyo. Not enough
time bad gone by to allow the women to begin to harbor hatred
toward the mean-spirited, unnamed person who had written
them.
Both letters were in the same hand. The contents were identi-

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 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

cal. There were many miswritten characters ; the sentences were

clumsy. Here and there were evidences that the writer had
deliberately distorted his handwriting.
The letters were written as if a sense of duty had made this
report on Yuichi's conduct necessary. Yuichi was an "absolute
phony" of a husband; he was "absolutely incapable of loving
women." Yuichi was "bilking his family, pulling the wool over
the world's eyes." Not only that, he p aid no heed to the h appy
arrangements entered into by other people. Although a man, he
had become the plaything of men. He had once been the favor­
ite of former Count Kaburagi, and now he was the pet of the
president of Kawada Motors. Moreover, this beautiful spoiled
child had been continually betraying the patronage of these older
lovers. He had loved and left an unbelievable number of young
lovers-more than ll hundred of them, no less. "It should be
pointed out" that the younger lovers were all of the same sex.
In the meantime Yuichi had come to take delight in stealing
what belonged to others. Because of him, an old man whose boy
lover he had taken away committed suicide. The writer of this
letter was a person who had suffered from the same offense. He
pleaded that it be understood that the feeling with which he had
sent this letter was one that could not be side-stepped.
"If this letter calls up any doubts, if there should be any
qualms over the definiteness of the evidence, I wish you to visit
the following restaurant after supper and see with your own eyes
the truth of what I say. Yuichi will be in this place at one time or
another. If you meet him there you will find the above report
verified."
This was the essence of the letter. The drafting of the detailed
map showing the location of Rudon's, with exact information
about the persons who visited there, was the same in both let­
ters.
"Did you meet him, Mother?" asked Yasuko.
The widow had e arlier intended to say nothing about the
picture, but without realizing it she blurted out everything : "I
didn't meet him, but I saw a picture. It was a picture of Yuichi
that a very lowbrow waiter there was guarding with his life."
Saying this, she was stricken with remorse, and added : "But
regardless, that's not the same as h aving met him. We still
h aven't proved that the letter isn't a hoax."
As she said these words her h aggard eyes contradicted her

[ 342 ]
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

words. They seemed to say that in her heart she did not believe
that the letter was in the slightest degree a hoax.
The widow Minami suddenly realized that Yasuko's face, so
close to her, bore no trace of agitation : "Why, you seem to be
perfectly ca1ml That's strange. You , who are Yuichi's wife !"
Yasuko was apologetic. She was afraid that her outward com­
posure might be causing her mother-in-law pain. The widow
went on : "I see no reason to believe that this letter is not entirely
false. What if it were true? Could you still be cahn?"
To this contradictory question she offered an extraordinary
answer : "Yes. Somehow, that's the way I would react."
The widow was silent for a time. After a while she said, with
eyes lowered : "That's because you don't love Yuichi, I guess.
The saddest part of it is that no one would h ave any c ause to
blame you for it. It is, rather, a fortunate thing in the midst of
misfortune, I cannot help but feel."
"No !" said Yasuko in a tone almost joyous in its determination.
"That is not so, Mother. It's quite the opposite. That's the very
reason why . . . "

The widow trembled before her young daughter-in-law.

Keiko was crying; her voice came from the bedroom through
the reed screens. Yasuko got up to nurse her. Yuichi's mother
was left alone in the eight-mat annex. The smell of mosquito
incense deepened her uneasiness. If Yuichi came home, his
mother felt she would h ave no place to go. This same mother
who had gone to Rudon's, intent on meeting her son, now feared
nothing more than meeting him. "If he stays away tonight, how­
ever filthy the accommodations, how happy I will be," she
prayed.
The widow Minami's pain was probably not based on moral
considerations. She merely felt a confusion of spirit from the
reversal of all her ordinary thought processes and ideas about
the world, through which her natural gentleness could not pene­
trate. Only revulsion and fear now filled her heart.
She closed her eyes and saw again the scenes of hell she had
encountered in the past two days. In them were phenomena she
was unprepared for, except for one clumsy letter. In them were
phenomena of indescribably bad taste, horror, disgust, ugliness,
blood-curdling unpleasantness, an anguish to make one writhe,
all that excited revulsion. And what made for a truly unpleasant
contrast was the fact that the employees and patrons of the place

[ 3 43 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

never altered their ordinary human expressions, the sangfroid

with which they met their daily rounds.
Those men act as if they consider themselves proper, she re­
flected irritably. How ugly is an upside-down world! Whatever
those perverts think or do, my way is the proper way. My eyes
have not gone mad.
If she had never been so shaken as she was then, she had also
never had her self-confidence so bolstered in all her life. That
conclusion is not strange. In the fearful and yet uproariously
funny phrase, "sexual perversion," everything was explained.
That this hairy caterpillar of a phrase, which no well-bred
young woman would utter, pertained to her own son, the
wretched mother pretended to forget.
When she had seen the male lovers kissing, the widow had
become violently ill and turned her eyes away.
"If they had any upbringing, they wouldn't do such things !"
As the word "upbringing," not less funny than "sexual perver·
sion," floated through the widow's mind, a pride that had long
been dormant awoke in her.
Her upbringing had been in "the very best of families." Her
father, affiliated with the rising classes of the Meiji era, loved
refinement almost as much as he did medals. In her house all
was refined, even the dogs. When her family sat down in their
own dining room, even with no guests present, they would say,
"Would you be so kind as to . . . " when they wanted the gravy
passed. The time in which the widow had been brought up was
not necessarily a tranquil time, but it was a great time. Soon
after she was born it saw victory in the Sino-Japanese War.
When she was eleven, it met victory in the Russo-Japanese War.
Until she became a member of the Minami family at nineteen,
her parents required nothing for the protection of this rather
sensitive girl but the highly stable moral dignity of the time and
culture in which they lived.
When, fifteen years after she had become a bride, she had had
no child, she could not appear before her mother-in-law, still
living, without humiliation. When Yuichi was born, she breathed
a sigh of relief. By this time changes had occurred within the
center of the dignified atmosphere she venerated. Yuichi's father,
who had been a great woman-chaser since his high school days,
for these fifteen years since his marriage still lived a wild life.
The tremendous relief of the time of Yuichi's birth carne from

[ 344 ]
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

the confirmation that the Minami family register would not show
that her husband's seed had been sown in questionable soil.
The first thing she had run into was humanity of this kind, but
her heart, with its inexhaustible love and esteem for her hus­
band, and her natural pride easily came to terms. Forgiveness
replaced resignation, and tolerance replaced humiliation, and
taught her a new way to love. This was indeed a love with
dignity. She felt that there was not a thing in this world she
could not forgive-at least all but indignity.
When hypocrisy becomes a matter of taste, great matters are
easily dispatched and small matters are fraught with fine moral
shadings. The widow Minami was not inconsistent at all in con­
sidering the atmosphere of Ruden's as simply bad taste. Since it
was vulgar, she could not pardon it.
It was reasonable that, given this background, her usually
gentle heart should not be inclined in the slightest toward sym­
pathy with her son. The widow Minami also could not help
wondering how an ill-bred thing like this, simply deserving of
revulsion, could be related to this pain and these tears that shook
her to the depths.
When the feeding was done, Yasuko put the baby to bed and
returned to her mother-in-law.
"I don't want to see Yuichi-this evening, anyway," her
mother-in-law said. "Tomorrow I have to talk to him. Let me do
the talking. Why don't you go to sleep, too? It doesn't pay to
keep ruminating about it, does it?"
She called Kiyo, and hurriedly told her to prepare for bed. She
acted as if something were chasing her. She felt confident that
once she got into bed this evening, in the extremity of her
fatigue, she could sleep the sodden sleep the drunkard craves
from his sake.

During the summer, the Minami family used whatever

room was coolest for their meals. The next day was sweltering
even in the morning, so Yuichi, his wife, and his mother had a
meal of cold juice, eggs, and toast on the veranda. During break­
fast, Yuichi was always immersed in the newspaper. This morn­
ing, as usual, the crumbs from his toast fell audibly on the paper.
The meal was over. Kiyo brought in tea, cleared the table, and

[ 345 ]
 FORBIDDEN C O L O R S

left. The widow Minami extended the two letters t o Yuichi with
almost rude abruptness. Yasuko's heart churned as she watched
her, and she looked away. The letters were hidden by the news­
paper; Yuichi did not see them. The mother poked the paper
with the letters.
"Won't you put that useless paper down? Here are some let­
ters that came in the mail."
Yuichi dumped the newspaper untidily on the chair beside
him and looked at the trembling hand with which his mother
held out the letters. He saw the faint smile of tension in her face.
He looked at the addresses on the envelopes, then turned them
over and saw the blank spaces where the senders' names should
h ave been. He took out a bulky letter and opened it. Then he
took out the other.
"They're both the same-the one that came to me, and the one
that came to Yasuko," his mother said.
When he began to read the letter, Yuichi's hand also trembled.
The color drained from his face, and he kept wiping the per­
spiration from his brow with a handkerchief.
He was barely reading. He knew the contents of the anony­
mous missive. He was more concerned with the painful process
of getting out of his predicament.
He induced a pained smile at the comers of his mouth and
summoned all his powers; then he looked squarely at his
mother.
"What's this rubbish? This headless, tailless, vulgar letter?
Somebody's jealous of me and is trying to cause me trouble."
"No. I myself went to the low-class dive named in that letter,
and I saw your picture there with my own eyes."
Yuichi had lost his powers of speech. His heart was in turmoil ;
he could not realize that in spite of the fury of his mother's tone
and her distraught look, she was far removed from her son's
tragedy, and that her anger was hardly more severe than if she
were scolding him for wearing a tasteless necktie. In the first
pitch of his excitement, he saw what was in his mother's eyes :
"society."
Yasuko began to weep quietly. Inured to submissiveness, she
usually hated to be seen crying, but now she was not sad at all,
and therefore suspected her flow of tears. Usually she restrained
her tears from fear of incurring her husband's displeasure ; now
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

her tears were meant to rescue him from his plight. Her body
had been trained by love and served well in love's behalf.
"Mother, don't go too far!" she whispered brokenly, then rose
from her seat. She walked-half-ran-through the house into
the corridor, to the room where Keiko slept.
Yuichi sat wordless, motionless. However oppressed he might
be, he had to do something soon to extricate himself. He took
the sheets of paper piled helter·skelter on the table and ripped
them to shreds. Then he crushed the torn fragments into a ball
and dropped it in the sleeve of his white splash-pattern robe. He
waited for his mother's response. She, however, sat with her
elbows on the table, not moving, supporting her downcast head
with her fingers.
It was the son who finally broke the silence.
"You don't understand, Mother. If you want to believe all of
this letter, all right, but-"
The widow Minami almost shouted : "What's going to happen
to Yasuko? "
"Yasuko? I love Yasuko."
"But aren't you one who hates women? All you can love are ill­
bred boys and rich old and middle-aged men I"
The son was amazed at the complete lack of tenderness in his
mother. Truthfully, his mother's fury was directed at her son's
blood ties, of which, indeed, half were her own. Thus she could
control her tears.
Yuichi thought : Wasn't it my mother who rushed me into
marriage with Yasuko? It's pretty rotten that she h as to blame it
all on me.
Sympathy with his mother, so weakened by illness, kept him
from giving voice to that retort. He said in a clear, clipped tone :
"Indeed I love Yasuko. Can't that be taken as evidence that I
like women?"
His mother, who was not even listening to his plea, answered
in a way that seemed almost a threat : "At any rate, I must see
Kawada and-"
"Please-don't act so gauche. He would think you're trying to
blackmail him." The son's words had their effect. The poor
woman muttered something incomprehensible and left Yuichi
sitting alone.

[ 3 47 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

Yuichi sat alone at the breakfast table. In front of him was

a clean tablecloth somewhat dotted with bread crumbs. There
was the garden filled with the light of the sun coming through
the trees and the voices of cicadas. Only the crumpled ball of
paper weighing down his sleeve made it other than a clear,
uneventful day. Yuichi lit a cigarette. He pushed back the
sleeves of his heavily starched bathrobe and folded his bare
anns. Whenever he looked at his own young, bare anns, he felt
an exaggerated pride in his well-being. He felt pain in each
breath, as if a solid board were pressing against his chest. His
heartbeat was faster than usual. He couldn't tell, however,
whether this chest pain was not one of anticipated joy. There
was a certain cheer in his discomfort. He smoked sparingly at
what remained of his cigarette.
He thought : At least now I'm certainly not bored.
Yuichi searched for his wife. Yasuko was on the second floor.
He could hear the mellow sound of the music box.
In her room, Keiko lay in her mosquito netting. Her eyes were
happily open and directed toward the music box. Yasuko looked
up at Yuichi and smiled, but it was an unnatural smile and did
nothing to mollify her husband. Yuichi's heart had been open as
he mounted the stairs, but when he saw this smile it closed
again.
Mter a long silence, Yasuko said : "About that letter-! don't
think anything of it." Then she added clumsily : "I only feel sorry
for you."
These words of sympathy were spoken in the gentlest tone; so
much the more deeply did they wound the young man. What he
had expected from his wife was not sympathy so much as frank
disdain. His wounded pride could not help scheming a reason­
less revenge against her.

Yuichi needed help. He thought of Shunsuke. But when he

realized that Shunsuke was one of those to blame for this tum of
events, his hatred rejected the name. He saw on the table the
letter from Kyoto that he had read two or three days earlier. She
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

is the only one who can save me, Yuichi thought. He decided to
send her a telegram.
Outside, the street shone with a fiendish glare. Yuichi had
come out by way of the back door. At the front gate he saw
someone who seemed hesitant about entering. At first the visitor
walked past the gate. Then he went back. It was as if he were
waiting for someone in the house to emerge. When the stranger
turned toward him, Yuichi was shocked to recognize the face of
Minoru. They ran to each other and shook hands.
"A letter came, didn't it? An awful letter. I found out that my
old man sent it. I was so sorry about it I cleared out of the
house. The old man put a detective on our trail. He found out all
about us."
Yuichi was not surprised. "I thought as much," he said.
"There's something I want to talk over with you , Yuchan."
"Not here. There's a little park nearby. Let's go there."
Affecting the calmness of an older person, Yuichi took the
boy's arm and guided him. Talking rapidly of the difficulties into
which they had just been plunged, they h astened their steps.
The neighboring N -- Park had been a part of the grounds
of the estate of Prince N-- . Twenty years before, the prince's
family had broken up and sold his vast land holdings, donating a
portion of the slope surrounding the pond to the borough for use
as a park.
The view of the pond, covered with water lilies at the peak of
bloom, was lovely. But for two or three children chasing cicadas,
the park at summer noon was empty. The two men sat down on
the slope facing the pond, in the shade of a pine tree. The
grassy incline, which had not had any care for a long time, was
littered with scraps of paper and orange peel. Scraps of news­
paper clung to the shrubbery at the water's edge. Mter the sun
went down, the Jittle park would be crowded with people seek­
ing the cool air.
"What did you want to talk about?" asked Yuichi.
"When this business happened, I decided I couldn't stay in my
old man's house any more. I'm going to leave home. Yuchan, will
you come with me ?"
"With you?" Yuichi hesitated.
"Are you concerned about money? Don't worry about that.
Look how much I have."
His face serious, his mouth slightly open, the boy unbuttoned

[ 3 49 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

the back pocket of his trousers. He withdrew a c arefully folded

roll of bills.
"Keep it for me," he said, handing it to Yuichi. "Heavy, isn't it?
It's a hundred thousand yen."
"Where'd you get this money?"
"I broke open the old man's safe and cleaned it of cash."
Yuichi looked at the pitiful, the niggardly result of one month
of dreaming with this boy of adventure. They had turned away
from society and dreamed of a youth of daring deeds, explora­
tion, heroic evil, of the brotherly love of comrades-in-arms who
face death on the morrow, of sentimental exploits they knew
would end in disaster, and of all manner of youthful tragedy.
They knew that they had been cut out for nothing but tragedy,
that a cruel lynching by a secret society lay in store for them, or
the death of Adonis slain by a wild boar, or a dungeon into which
evil men had trapped them and where the water rose moment
by moment to drown them, or ritualistic ordeals in cave king­
doms in which there was no chance of survival, or the end of the
world, or fabulous opportunities to rescue hundreds of their fel­
lows by sacrificing their lives, or glory fille d with horrendous
perils. Indeed, these were the only catastrophes meant for youth.
If such opportunities for catastrophe are allowed to pass, youth
must die. What is the death of the body, after all, compared
with the unbearable death of youth?
Like many other youths-Why? Because living the life of
youth is a never-ending , terrible death !-they spent their youths
dreaming of ever new annihilations.
The outcome of these reveries, however, was now before
Yuichi's eyes. It was nothing more than an urban incident; it had
no hint of glory, nor of the smell of death. This drab incident,
appropriate to a ditch rat, might perhaps come out in the news­
papers-an item about the size of a sugar cube.
This boy's dreams have the tranquillity of a woman's, was
· Yuichi's disheartening thought. We're supposed to elope with
stolen money and live somewhere , just the two of us. Ah ! If only
he had had the courage to kill his old man, then I would fall
down on my knees before the boy!
Yuichi called forth his other self, the young head of a family.
He quickly decided the attitude he should assume. Compared
with the other, pitiful outcome, the alternative of hypocrisy
seemed far preferable.

[ 3)0 ]
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

"Suppose I hold on to this," said Yuichi, putting the roll of

bills in his inside pocket.
Innocent trust shone in the boy's eyes, so like a rabbit's, and
he answered, "All right."
"I've got a little business at the post office. Would you like to
come along?"
"Wherever you go . . . I've entrusted my body to you too."
"You sure have," Yuichi said, as if to reassure himself.
At the post office he sent a telegram to Mrs. Kaburagi that
read as if it had been sent by a fretful child : "Need you. Come
right away." Then he called a cab and told Minoru to get in.
"Where are we going?" asked Minoru.
Yuichi told the driver the destination in a low voice. Minoru,
who hadn't heard, assumed they were going to some fine hotel.
Then, seeing the cab approaching Kanda, the boy thrashed
about like a sheep brought back to the fold.
"Leave things to me," said Yuichi; "I won't do anything
wrong."
The boy quickly seized upon something in Yuichi's resolute
tone and smiled. This hero was now going to show his strength
and revenge himself, the boy thought. When the boy imagined
the face of his foster father, ugly in death, his body trembled
with joy. Minoru dreamed that Yuichi dreamed about him just
as he dreamed about Yuichi. Yuichi had a knife. He would im­
passively cut the old man's jugular vein. As Minoru thought
about the beauty of the kille r in that moment, Yuichi's profile
became in the boy's eyes something that possessed all the perfec­
tion of a god.
The cab stopped in front of the coffee shop. Yuichi got out.
Minoru followed. On this school street at noon in midsummer
there were few passers-by. As the two crossed the street, the sun
at the zenith barely made a shadow. Minoru triumphantly lifted
his eyes toward the surrounding second- and third-floor windows
and scanne d them. The people who were looking unconcernedly
down on the street were certainly not dreaming that these
youths were on their way to kill a man. Great deeds always are
carried out at just such obvious times as this.
The shop was quiet inside. To eyes accustomed to the light
outside, it was terribly dark. When he saw the two entering,
Fukujiro, who had been sitting by the cash register, suddenly
stood up.

( ]51 ]
 F O R B ID D EN C O L O R S

"Where did you g o off t o ? " he demanded o f Minoru, a s if

about to grab him.
Minoru calmly introduced Yuicbi to Fukujiro. F1,kujiro's face
went white.
''I'd like to speak to you for a moment."
"Won't you come in the back? This way, please." �<ukujiro left
the register in the care of a waiter.
"Stay here," said Yuicbi to :J.\.Hnoru, stationifiP. �im in the
doorway.
When Yuichi took the roll from his inside pockl't. :md banded
it over to him , Fukujiro was dumfounded.
"Minoru tells me he took this from your hou!';--:hold safe. He
gave it to me, and I am giving it back to you u:r.tcuched. Minoru
was not himself, I believe, so please don't be b � ..sh with him."
Silently and suspiciously, Fukujiro stared ::� the yonng m an's
face. This man before him, whom he had attncked and injured
by such a low trick, he had loved at first sight. He quickly
thought of a stupid plan. He would confess all and submit to the
other's rebuke. It would be a short cut to winning his sympathy.
First he would apologize. He could take his cue ready-made
from heroic tales anc.. the songs of minstrels. "Well, sir, you win !"
he would say. "wt.en 1 �tand before you in your grandeur, my
smalle&, concern disgusts me. Go ahead, punch me, kick me, do
what you want witJ:, me until you're satisfied, and so on."
Before he went into his act, Fukujiro had a matter to settle.
Now that he h ad his money back, he must count it. The amount
of money that was in the safe he always kept in his head, but it
still had to check with the balance in his books. And I oo ,ooo yen
was not something one could count in a second. He pulled up a
chair to the table, bowed lightly to Yuichi, spread out the
money, and began carefully counting the bills.
Yuichi observed the dexterity with which the small business­
man counted his money. In the movements of his fidgety fingers
there was a dead-earnestness that was aloof from love, anony­
mous letters, and theft. When he had finished counting, Fukujiro
put his hands on the table and nodded to Yuichi again.
"You're sure it's all there?"
"Yes, it's all there."
Fukujiro had missed his chance. Yuichi was already on his
feet. Without another look at Fukujiro, he strode to the door.
Minoru had seen all of this unforgivable betrayal by his hero. He

[ 352 ]
 Hailstones from a Clear Sky

stood with his back to the wall, his face pale, and watched
Yuichi go. As he went out, Yuichi bowed; Minoru looked
away.
Yuichi walked rapidly down the midsummer street. There was
no one behind him. A smile tugged at the comers of his mouth.
He was filled with an indescribably joyous pride. Now he under­
stood the pride of those who do charitable deeds. When it comes
to bemusing the heart, no evil is better than hypocrisy. He knew
that, and he was very happy. Thanks to the scene just enacted.
the young man's shoulders were now unburdened. This morn­
ing's heavy oppression seemed to have lifted. To make the joy
complete, he decided on a foolish, meaningless purchase. He
went to a little stationery store and bought the cheapest possible
celluloid pencil sharpener and a pen point.

[ 3 53 ]
 CHAPTER 29

D E U S E X M A C H I NA

YUICHI'S INACTIVITY was complete. There was no matching

his composure during this period of crisis. His calmness, born
only from the depths of loneliness, silenced the family. It was
almost as if they had decided the anonymous letter was a hoax.
That is how c alm Yuicbi was.
He passed those days serenely, not saying much. The youth
planted his feet on his own ruins and with the self-possession of
a tightrope walker perused the morning paper at leisure and
took a nap when the sun was high. Before a day' bad passed, the
family had lost the urge to resolve the issue and seemed bent
only on how to get around the topic. Above all, it was not a
refined thing to talk about.
Mrs. Kaburagi's reply wire carne. It said she was arriving in
Tokyo on the Special Express Hato, arriving at eight thirty.
Yuichi went to Tokyo Station to meet her.
Mrs. Kaburagi, c arrying a single small suitcase, got off the
train and picked out the figure of Yuichi wearing a student cap
and white shirt with sleeves rolled up. She saw his face with its
noncommittal smile, and, much sooner than his mother would
h ave, observed his distress. Possibly she had never imagined
seeing anything like this expression, concealing its burden of
despair. She hurried toward him in her high-heeled shoes. Yuichi
too made his way swiftly toward her. His eyes still averted, he
seized Mrs . Kaburagi's bag.
Her breathing quickened. The youth was conscious as ever of
her steadfast gaze.
"It's been ages. What's wrong?"

[ 3)4 ]
 Deus ex Machina

"Let's talk about it later."

"All right. Don't worry, now; I'm here."
In truth, there was in the lady's eyes as she s aid this an un­
blinking, indomitable strength. Yuichi needed this woman whom
he had once so easily forced to her knees. Now in his helpless
smile she read the hardship he had undergone. And as she real­
ized that it was not of her making, a feeling of extraordinary
courage was born in her.
"Where are you staying?" Yuichi asked.
"I wired the inn that was once our family mansion."
The two went to that inn, and were greeted by startling cir­
cumstances. The well-intentioned manager had made up the
second-floor western room of the annex for Mrs. Kaburagi-the
very room in which she had discovered Yuichi and Kaburagi.

The manager came to greet them. This old-fashioned,

perspicacious gentleman did not forget to treat Mrs. Kaburagi as
if she was still a countess. Aware of the awkwardness of the
relationship between him, as host, and her, as his guest, and
embarrassed that in a sense he had usurped her residence while
she was away, he praised his establishment as if it were her
home and he the visitor. He slithered around the walls like a
lizard.
"The furnishings were so marvelous that we took the liberty of
keeping them just as they were. All our guests say that they have
never seen such genuine, refined furniture. I apologize about the
wallpaper; we had it changed. The gloss of this mahogany pillar,
now, is inexpressibly beautiful in a subdued way-"
"But remember that this was once the steward's house."
"Of course. I'm fully aware of that."
Mrs. Kaburagi offered no objection to being assigned this
room. When the manager had gone she got up from her chair
and walked attentively around the old-fashioned room, which
looked so n arrow because of the bed covered with white
mosquito netting. Now once again after six months she was in
this room into which she had peeped and then fled from home. It
was not her nature to see this tum of events as an inauspicious
coincidence. Besides, the wallpaper in the room had been
rehung.

[ 35) ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

,
"It's hot. I f you'd like t o take a shower .
At this suggestion Yuichi opened the door to the narrow book­
closet, about three mats in size, and turned on the light. All the
books had been removed. A sheet of pure white tiles glared at
him. The book-closet had been turned into a moderate-sized
bathroom.
As a traveler returning to a land visited long ago discovers first
only his old memories, Mrs. Kaburagi was attracted only by
Yuichi's unspoken anguish , the counterpart of her own pain. She
did not see his transformation. He looked for all the world like a
child in torment, incapable of doing anything about it. She did
not know that he himself saw his distress.
Yuichi went into the bathroom. There was a sound of water
running. She reached her h and to her back, undid the row of
small buttons and loosened her bodice. Her shoulders, smooth as
ever, were half-exposed. She didn't like electric fans, so didn't
turn on the one in the room, but from her bag she took a silver­
leaf Kyoto fan.
His unhappiness and the happiness I am returning to, what a
heartless comparison ! she thought. His emotions and my emo­
tions are like the blossoms and the leaves of the cherry tree,
made to come out without meeting one another.
Moths were colliding with the window screens. She under­
stood the stifling impatience of the great moths of the night
scattering the dust from their wings. Anyway, this is the only
way I can feel. At least now I can encourage him with my sense
of being happy.
Mrs. Kaburagi looked at the rococo sofa on which she had sat
so often with her husband. Sat-nothing more. Not even the
edges of their clothing had touched; there had been always a
fixed distance between them. Suddenly she recalled the memory
of their grotesque shapes-her husband and Yuichi, embracing
each other. Her bare shoulders felt cold.
What she had seen was accidental-in fact, it had been an
innocent intrusion. She had wanted to see the kind of happiness
that existed eternally and surely at times when she was not
present. Such audacious wishes always invite the most unfortu·
nate results , perhaps.
And now Mrs. Kaburagi was with Yuichi in this same room.
She was occupying the very place that happiness might have
occupied. Instead, here she was. Her truly sagacious spirit soon

[ 3s6 J
 Deus ex Machina

awakened to the. evident truth that for her there was no possibil­
ity for happiness, and that Yuichi would never love a woman.
Suddenly, as if she were cold, she reached back her hand and
refastened her bodice. She had come to realize that all her
charms would be futile. In the old days, if so much as one button
were undone, it was because she was conscious of the presence
of a man who would be glad to button it. If one of the men she
was accustomed to associate with in that period had observed
her modesty here, he would certainly have doubted his eyes.
Yuichi carne out of the bathroom combing his hair. His damp
and glistening youthful face reminded Mrs. Kaburagi of the
coffee shop where she had seen Kyoko, when Yuichi's face was
wet from the sudden rain.
In order to set herself free from memories, she called out to
him : "All right, tell me quickly. Here you've brought me all the
way to Tokyo and you haven't yet told me why."

Yuichi gave her the gist of what had happened and asked
for help. However, what she caught running through it all was
the urgent hope that the authenticity of that letter somehow be
disproved. Mrs. Kaburagi therefore quickly made a daring reso­
lution-she promised to visit the Minami horne the next day.
Then she sent Yuichi on his way. She was somewhat intrigued
by it all. Her character owed its uniqueness to the fact that in it
an inherently aristocratic heart and a whorish heart were natu­
rally combined.
The next morning at ten o'clock the Minami family greeted an
unexpected visitor. She was conducted to the second-floor draw­
ing room. Yuichi's mother appeared. Mrs. Kaburagi said she
would like to see Yasuko too. As if acceding to the visitor's
request to be spared an encounter, Yuichi remained in his
study.
Her somewhat fuller body in a light purple dress, Mrs. Ka­
buragi had a style that swept all before her. She smiled con­
stantly, so polite and composed that even before she began her
story she had filled Mrs. Minami with terror, making her fear she
was to hear about yet another scandal.
"I hate to mention it, but electric fans and I-oh, thank you,"
said the guest, and a hand fan was brought. She held the handle

[ 351 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

of the fan and languidly waved it and let her gaze flutter about
Yasuko's face. This was the first time the two women had sat
face to face since the dance the previous year.
Normally, Mrs. Kaburagi thought, I would be jealous of this
woman. Her heart, however, had become fierce, and, perhaps
out of cruelty, she felt nothing more than contempt for the beau­
tiful young wife.
"Yuchan wired me and asked me to come. Last night I found
out all about that strange letter. That's why I've come here
today. I understand the letter also had something to say about
Mr. Kaburagi."
The widow Minami hung her head in silence. Yasuko lifted
her hitherto downcast eyes and looked straight at Mrs. Kaburagi.
Then she said, in a soft but firm voice to her mother-in-law : "I
think I'd better not stay."
Her mother-in-law, not wishing to be left alone, stopped her:
"But Mrs. Kaburagi has gone out of her way to come here to talk
to both of us."
"Yes, but I don't want to be part of any more discussions on
the subject of that letter."
"That's just the way I feel. But when you don't discuss the
things you should, you regret it later on."
The way in which these two women went on exchanging very
proper words and at the same time walked circumspectly around
one ugly word was ironical in the extreme.
Mrs. Kaburagi int�rrupted for the first time : "Why, Yasuko?"
Yasuko felt as if she and Mrs. Kaburagi were engaged in a
clash of wills : "Well, I just don't have any thoughts now about
the subject of this letter."
Mrs. Kaburagi bit her lip at this curt reply. She though t : My,
she takes me for an enemy and is challenging me to a fight. Her
patience was at an end. She cut short her efforts to help Yasuko's
narrow, young, virtuous mind to see that she also was on Yuichi's
side. She forgot the limitations of her role and dropped all in­
hibitions about making high-handed statements.
"I really want you to hear what I have to say. What I have
come to report is an auspicious thing of a sort. Some who hear it,
however, may look at it as an evil thing, perhaps."
"Please, hurry and tell us," said Yuichi's mother. ''I'm in an
agony of suspense." Yasuko did not leave her place.
"Yuchan felt that, besides me, there was no witness who could

[ 3se J
 Deus ex Machina

say that that letter was absolutely without foundation. So he

wired me to come. What I have to confess is a bitter pill to
swallow. I think, however, that what I have to say will do much
to put your minds at ease about that disgraceful lie of a letter."
Mrs. Kaburagi's voice broke as she went on : "Yuchan and I have
been having an affair for a long time."
Mrs. Minami exchanged a long look with her daughter-in-law.
This new blow took everything out of her. Mter a time she
regained her composure and asked : "But does that mean re­
cently, too? You've been in Kyoto since spring."
"When my husband lost his job, he was already suspicious of
what was going on between me and Yuichi. So he made me go
to Kyoto with him. Just the same, I've been corning to Tokyo all
the time."
"And Yuichi . . ." The mother fumbled for words but finally
fastened on the vague word "friendly," and somehow managed
to say it : "And Yuichi was friendly with only you ?"
"Well-" Mrs. Kaburagi looked over at Yasuko as she replied :
"There might have been other women. He's young, after all.
That can't be helped."
Yuichi's mother's face went beet-red; then she nervously
asked : "Those other people, weren't any of them men?"
"My l" laughed Mrs. Kaburagi. She took pleasure in letting the
vulgar words fall from her lips : "But I know of two women who
have had abortions to get rid of Yuichi's children."

Mrs. Kaburagi's confession, candid and bare of superfluous

flourishes, had a tremendous effect. This brazen confession de­
livered before the wife and mother of her lover was far more
appropriate and credible in the situation than a maudlin confes­
sion meant to elicit tears.
The widow Minami's confusion was more than she could bear.
For the first time in her life her feminine modesty had been
attacked there in that vulgar restaurant. As a result her will was
paralyzed, so that she could see in this most recent extraordinary
event which bad been provoked by Mrs. Kaburagi only its
naturalness.
The widow tried to calm herself. It was a respite to allow
stubborn, fixed ideas to run through her head : Nobody can

[ 3 59 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

prove that this confession i s a lie. The best proof o f its truth is
that-regardless of how men might act-it is impossible for a
woman to confess that she has been involved in an affair that
never took place. Besides, when it comes to a woman rescuing a
man, there is no telling how far she might go. So it is possible
that a woman like the former countess would march in on a
m an's mother and wife and make such an ill-bred admission.
There was in this judgment a m arvelous logical contradiction.
In short, by her use of the word "man" and the word "woman,"
she was already taking a mutual affair for granted.
If she had been an old-fashioned woman, she would h ave
closed her eyes to an affair like this, involving a married woman
and a married man, and covered her ears too; but now she found
herself approving of :Mrs. Kaburagi's confession. She was thrown
into terrible confusion because her moral outlook seemed to
have become cloudy. She was frightened by the part of herself
that leaned toward believing Mrs. Kaburagi's entire story and
rejecting the letter as a piece of rubbish, and felt a strong urge to
cling to the evidence she had gathered verifying the letter.
''Yes, but I saw his picture. I still feel sick when I recall that
filthy place and that ill-bred waiter with Yuichi's photograph."
"Yuchan told me about that. Truthfully, he told me that some
of his school friends went in for that sort of thing, and they
pestered him so to give them pictures of him that he let them
h ave two or three, and I suppose they got passed around.
Yuchan went to some of those places with his friends, half out of
curiosity, and when he gave the cold shoulder to a man who
kept making passes at him, that man wrote the letter to get back
at him."
"Well, why didn't Yuichi tell me, his own mother, that story?"
"I suppose he was afraid to."
''I'm not a very good mother, that's certain. Granting what you
say, however, may I ask you an impolite question? Is there no
basis for believing there was anything between Yuichi and :Mr.
Kaburagi?"
She had been anticipating this question. Nevertheless, she had
to struggle to maintain her composure. She had seen it. And
what she had seen was not a photograph.
Mrs. Kaburagi was wounded in spite of herself. She was not
embarrassed about bearing false witness, but she found it pain­
ful to betray that fervent pretense she had built over her life

[ 3 6o ]
 Deus ex Machina

since she beheld that sight-the very fervor from which this
effort to bear false witness sprang. She was acting heroically
now, but she refused to see herself as a heroine.
"Oh, that's a story beyond imagination."
Yasuko had been silent the whole time. The fact that she had
not said a word made Mrs. Kaburagi uncomfortable. In truth,
the one to respond most honestly in the affair was Yasuko. Mrs.
Kaburagi's veracity did not seem open to question. But what was
the watertight connection between her husband and this other
woman ?
Yasuko bided her time until the conversation between her
mother-in-law and Mrs. Kaburagi was finished. In the meantime
she was groping for a question that might perplex Mrs. Ka­
buragi.
"There's something I find strange. Yuchan's wardrobe has
been steadily growing:"
"Oh, that," Mrs. Kaburagi answered. "That's nothing. I had
them made for him. If you like, I'll bring the tailors over. I'm
working, and I like to do things like that for someone I like."
"Really, you're working?" The widow Minami's eyes rounded.
It was unthinkable that this woman, the soul of extravagance,
should actually be working.
Mrs. Kaburagi informed her straightforwardly : "Mter I got to
Kyoto, I became a broker of imported automobiles. Recently I
struck out for myself as an independent broker."
This was her only true statement. Lately, she was showing
great skill in a commercial arrangement under which she bought
cars at 1 ,3oo,ooo yen and sold them at I ,soo,ooo yen.
Yasuko was concerned about the baby and left her seat.
Yuichi's mother, who until this time had been putting up a brave
front for her daughter-in-law's benefit, broke down. She could
not determine whether this woman before her was friend or foe.
Regardless, she felt compelled to say : "I don't know what to do.
I'm more concerned about Yasuko than about myself-"
Mrs. Kaburagi launched forth coldly and bluntly : "I carne
here today determined about one thing. It seemed to me better
to h ave you and Yasuko know the truth than to be menaced by
that letter. Yuichi and I are going on a trip for two or three days.
There is nothing serious between me and Yuichi, so Yasuko
doesn't have a thing to worry about."
Mrs. l\1inami dropped her head at the explicitness of this
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

audacious distinction. At any rate, Mrs . Kaburagi's dignity was

hard to impugn. The widow abandoned her motherly preroga­
tives. The intuition by which she divined in Mrs. Kaburagi more
motherliness than in herself was a correct one. She did not real­
ize that her comment was ridiculous : ''Please take good care of
Yuichi."

Yasuko bent over the sleeping Keiko. In the past several

days her peace had been shattered, but like a mother who in an
earthquake instinctively protects her child's body with her own,
she had constantly schemed how to prevent the catastrophe from
affecting her child. Yasuko had lost her bearings. She was like a
lone island buffeted by rough seas, no longer fit for human
habitation.
She was being propelled toward something enormous, more
complicated than disgrace ; she felt almost no humiliation. The
pain that almost took her breath away had come well after the
incident of the letter, when the equilibrium she had attained by
determining not to believe the contents of the letter was de­
stroyed. While she was listening to Mrs. Kaburagi's frank testi­
mony, a transformation in her innermost feelings indubitably
came about. Of that transformation, she herself was not yet
aware.
Yasuko heard the voices of her mother-in-law and their guest
as they came down the stairs. Thinking that Mrs. Kaburagi was
leaving, Yasuko got up to say good-bye. But she wasn't leaving.
Yasuko heard her mother-in-law's voice and had a glimpse of
Mrs. Kaburagi's back through the blind as she was conducted
into Yuichi's study. She walks around my house as if it were her
own, thought Yasuko.
Mrs. Minami soon came out of Yuichi's study, alone. She sat
down at Yasuko's side. Her face was not pale ; on the contrary,
excitement had brought a flush to her cheeks.
Mter a time the mother-in-law said : "What moved her to
come here and tell us a thing like that? She didn't do it for the
fun of it, that's certain."
"She must like Yuicbi a great deal."
"To say the least!"
Now in the old lady's heart, apart from her sympathy for her
 Deus ex Machina

daughter-in-law, a kind of relief and pride was being born. If it

came to the stage of deciding whether she should believe the
letter or Mrs. Kaburagi's story, she would unhesitatingly choose
the latter. That her beautiful son should be sought after by the
opposite sex was in her moral outlook a virtue. In short, it made
her happy.
Yasuko realized that she and her kind mother-in-law lived in
different worlds. She had to take care of herself; there was no
other way. From her experience , however, she knew already
that, other than letting matters take their course, she had no way
of rescuing herself from pain . Placed in such a pitiful position,
she crouched unmoving, fixed, like a helpless little animal.
"Well, that's the end," said the old lady in despair.
"It's not really the end, Mother," said Yasuko. Her words were
stem, but her mother-in-law understood them as being meant to
give her courage.
In tears, she thanked her with whatever phrases she could
utter : ''I'm such a lucky person to have a daughter-in-law like
you. Thank you-thank you, Yasuko . . ."

When Mrs. Kaburagi was at last alone with Yuichi in his

study, she breathed the air of the room deeply through her
nostrils, like one entering a forest. This air seemed to her more
delicious and refreshing than the air of any forest.
"This is a nice study."
"It was my father's. When I am in the house I can only
breathe easy when I'm here."
"I too."
Yuichi understood why her echoing phrase came so naturally.
She had barged into somebody else's house like a strong wind;
thrown propriety, honor, sympathy, and modesty in all direc­
tions; indulged herself to her heart's content in cruelty to herself
and others ; and fervently, for Yuichi's sake, dared superhuman
feats. And now she took a breath.
The window was open. On the table was an old-fashioned
desk lamp, some ink bottles, a heap of dictionaries, and a
Munich beer stein decorated with summer flowers. Across the
near foreground, so like a copper plate etching, the scene of the
:fierce, late summer street unfurled itself, somehow imparting a
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

desolate feeling b y the raw wood o f the many buildings raised

on the ashes of the fires. The capital streetcars descended the hill
on the trolley street. Mter a passing cloud slipped away, the rails
in both directions, the foundation stones of the burnt ruins still
not rebuilt, and the shards of glass in rubbish piles shone out
...
with a terrific gla � .
"All is well. You1. mother, and Yasuko, too, aren't going to that
restaurant again just to check up on you."
"All is well, I agree," said the youth, convinced. "There won't
be a second letter, I suppose. Mama doesn't have the courage to
go there a second time, and Yasuko, even though she has the
courage, would never do so."
"You're tired . I think you should take a little vacation some­
where. Without consulting you , I announced to your mother that
you and I are going on a two- or three-day trip together."
Yuichi turned to her as if shocked.
"Let's go tonight," she urged. "I can get railroad tickets
through a friend. I'll call you l ater. We can meet at the station.
I'd like to stop off at Shima on the way back to Kyoto. We'll take
a room in the hotel." She studied Yuichi's expression carefully :
"Don't worry. I know too much to cause you any trouble. Noth­
ing will happen between us, so relax."
Mrs. Kaburagi again had gauged Yuichi's inclinations; Yuichi
agreed to go. In fact, he had wanted for two or three days to
extricate himself from this stifling situation. No companion
could be as gentle-and as safe-as Mrs. Kaburagi.
The youth's eyes displayed his appreciation, and Mrs. Ka­
buragi, who feared as much, hurriedly waved her hand : "It isn't
like you to be grateful to me for a small thing like that. Allright?
During the trip, if you think of me as anything else but air, I
shall be very upset."
:Mrs. Kaburagi departed. Yuichi's mother saw her to the door
and aftenvard followed Yuichi back to his study. While she had
been with Yasuko, her eyes h ad been opened to her role.
The old lady closed the door dramatically behind her: "Are
you going on a trip with that married woman? "
"Yes."
"I wish you wouldn't. It will be pretty hard on Yasuko."
"If so, why doesn't she come and stop me herself?"
"You're a child. If you then simply faced Yasuko and told her
 Deus ex Machina

outright you're going on a trip, you'd cut the ground from under
her feet."
''I'd like to get away from Tokyo for a little bit."
"If so, go with Yasuko."
"If I went with Yasuko I would get no rest."
The woman's voice rose in her excitement : "Think of your
child a little, too, please l"
Yuichi dropped his eyes and said nothing. In the end his
mother spoke : "Think of me a little too."
This egoism reminded Yuichi of his mother's complete lack of
gentleness during the episode of the letter.
The dutiful son was silent for a time; then he said : "Anyway,
I'm going. I've caused that person enough trouble, what with
this weird business of the letter. Don't you think it would be
mean not to accept her invitation ?"
"You're talking like a kept lover."
"Right. As she s ays, I'm her kept lover."
Yuichi pronounced his words triumphantly to his mother, now
more distantly removed from him than he could measure.
 CHAPTER 30

HEROIC PASSION

MRS. KAB URAGI and Yuichi departed that evening o n the

'
eleven o'clock night train. By this time the heat had abated.
Setting out on a journey engenders a strange emotion. One is
seized by the feeling that he is free not only from the land that
he has just left behind him , but also from the time that h e is
vacating.
Yuichi h ad had no regrets. Strange to say, it was because he
loved Yasuko. As he saw things from the position of his twisted
love, his going away on this journey under the many compul­
sions that forced him to do so was a p arting gift to Yasuko. At
this time his keen sensitivities had no fear even of hypocrisy. He
thought of the words of the pronouncement he had made to his
mother : "At any rate, I love Yasuko. Can't that be taken as
evidence that I like women?" With those words in mind, he
seemed to h ave sufficient reason to believe that it was Yasuko
and not himself whom he had put Mrs. Kaburagi to the trouble
of rescuing.
Mrs. Kaburagi did not understand these new workings of
Yuichi's heart. He was only very beautiful, overflowing with
youth and charm; furthermore, he could never love a woman.
She-and no one else-had saved him.
Tokyo Station receded in the distance. Mrs. Kaburagi emitted
a low sigh. If she exhibited even the slightest sign of love,
Yuichi's long-awaited rest would certainly be lost. As the train
lurched along, their bare arms touched once in a while, but
when that happened it was she who quietly withdrew her ann.
If Yuichi became aware of her love through even the faintest

[ 3 66 J
 Heroic Passion

quiver on her part, he would end up being bored, she feared.

"How is Mr. Kaburagi doing? His letters seem fine."
"He's living off his wife. I guess one would have to say that's
what he's always done."
"Is he still that way?"
"Nowadays, since I have found out all about him, he's much
more relaxed. When we walk in town and he teases me by
saying, 'Isn't that kid pretty?' it's sure to be a boy."
Yuichi said nothing, and after a time Mrs. Kaburagi asked :
"Don't you like me to say things like that?"
"No," said the youth, without looking at her. "I don't like to
hear subjects like that coming from your mouth."
The sensitive woman saw through the childish fancies this
self-centered youth was hiding from the world. It ·was an ex­
tremely important discovery. It meant that Yuichi was still
searching for some kind of illusion about her. I must act more
as if I don't know. I must never appear to be anything but harm­
less as a lover, she decided, with some satisfaction.
The exhausted pair slept after a time. In the morning, at
Kameyama, they changed to the Toba Line. From Toba they
took the Shima Line, and over an hour later arrived at the last
stop, Kashikojima, an island connected with the mainland by a
single short bridge. The air was remarkably clear. The two trav­
elers stepped down into an unfamiliar station and sniffed the sea
breeze coming across the numerous isles of Ago B ay.

When they got to the hotel on the top of the hill on

Kashikojima, Mrs. Kaburagi asked for only one room. Not that
she anticipated anything at all. :Mrs. Kaburagi did not know
what to make of this difficult love of hers. If one could call it
love, it was a love incognita. In no play, in no novel, had its like
been drawn. Everything had to be worked out by her, tested by
her. If she could sleep one night in the same room with a man
she loved so much, not looking forward to anything happening,
when day dawned, thanks to this arduous ordeal, a s till soft,
feverish love would be given form and be forged into steel, she
thought. On being shown into the room and seeing the two beds
side by side , Yuichi was taken aback, but then soon was embar­
rassed that he had doubted her.
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

The day was fine, refreshing, not too warm. Guests who came
to the hotel during the week usually stayed over. Mter lunch
they went to the beach on Shima Peninsula, near Goza Point.
They got there in the big motor launch that went from the back
of the hotel along the inlet from Ago Bay.
Mrs . Kaburagi and Yuichi wore light shirts over their bathing
suits. The tranquillity of n ature was all about. The surrounding
seascape was not so much that of island upon island floating on
the water, but of numerous islands crowded together. The shore­
line was jagged in the extreme, and the water seemed to be
stealing far in upon the land, eating away at it. Thus the singular
calm of the view was like that of the very center of a flood above
which only the broad hills majestically stood forth. To the east,
to the west, as far as the eye could see, all the way to the
unexpected mountain passes, the coruscating sea extended.
Since during the morning a number of guests had had their
swim and returned, there were only five people in the boat with
Yuichi and Mrs. Kaburagi when it went out in the afternoon.
Three were a young couple and their child. The other two were
a middle-aged American couple. The boat threaded among the
pearl rafts that floated everywhere on the calm surface of the
deep-cut bay. The rafts were used to hold the baskets which ,
immersed deep in the sea, held the pearl-bearing oysters. Since it
was already late summer, the women pearl divers were nowhere
to be seen.
They had folding chairs placed on the deck in the boat's stem
and sat down . Yuichi was struck with admiration at his first view
of Mrs. Kaburagi's bare body. Her flesh combined elegance with
ripeness. All was sheathed in fine curves; the beauty of her legs
was that of a woman who had sat on chairs since childhood.
Particularly beautiful was the line from her shoulder to her fore­
ann. As if she meant to reflect the sun's rays, Mrs. Kaburagi did
nothing to protect her slightly tanned skin, which showed not
the least sign of aging.
The roundness from her shoulder to her wrist-in the shifting
shadow of her hair flying in the sea breeze-was like the bare
arms of noble ladies of ancient Rome revealed by their gowns.
Having been set free of the fixed idea that one must desire this
body, from the sense of duty that one must entrap oneself in it,
Yuichi understood its beauty well. Mrs. Kaburagi had taken off
her shirt, and her white bathing suit concealed only her trunk.

[ 3 68 ]
 Heroic Passion

She watched the islands shining in the sun-so numerous they

gave one no time to respond. The islands flowed up to her, then
receded. Yuichi imagined the multitudes of pearls beginning to
ripen in the baskets suspended into the deep sea from the count­
less pearl rafts under this late summer sun.
The inlet of Ago Bay branched off into many other inlets, and
from one of these the boat emerged and slipped along the sur­
face of the sea, seemingly closed in as before by land. In the
green of the surrounding islands, one could see the roofs of the
houses of the pearl-industry workers. They combined to form the
walls of a labyrinth.
"There's Hamayu I" shouted one of the guests.
On one island, clumps of white flowers were visible here and
there. Mrs. Kaburagi looked across the shoulder of the youth at
the fabled flowers of Hamayu, now past their prime.
Until now she had not loved nature. Only body heat, pulse,
flesh and blood, and the smell of human beings had charmed
her. But the panorama before her eyes now captured her fierce
heart. Why? Because nature seemed to reject her advances.
After they had returned from their swim before supper, the
two went to the hotel bar for cocktails. Yuichi ordered a martini.
The countess told the bartender to mix and shake absinthe,
French vermouth, and Italian vermouth and provide her with a
Duchess cocktail.
The two were surprised at the uncanny colors burning every­
where in inlet after inlet in the evening glow. Their drinks
glowed orange and light brown, shot through with these rays,
then turned crimson.
Although the windows were open everywhere, there was not a
sigh of wind. It was the famous evening calm of the Ise-Shima
coast. The burning atmosphere, suspended like heavy wool
fabric, did not disturb the healthy repose of the youth, exhila­
rated in mind and body. The joy in his body after the swim and
bath, the consciousness of renewal, the beautiful woman beside
him knowing everything and forgiving everything, just the right
degree of inebriation : these divine favors were flawless ; they
made it easy for the one beside him to feel unlucky.
Allin all, this man must have had something of an experience,
Mrs. Kaburagi could not help thinking, as she gazed at the
youth's now serene eyes , storing up not one atom of ugliness that
might have existed in his memory. This man continually lives in
 F O R B ID D EN COLORS

this moment, in this spot, with his innocence intact.

Mrs. Kaburagi now understood well the grace that constandy
and happily surrounded Yuichi. The way he was snared by grace
was like the way a man is snared in a trap. You have to be
cheerful, she thought. 1£ not it would be as before, nothing
more than repetitions of unhappy encounters heavy as stone.
In this trip to Tokyo and the succeeding excursion to Shima,
her finn self-sacrifice was valiant. It was not simply restraint. It
was not self-control. It was living in the consciousness in which
Yuichi lived, believing only in the world that Yuichi beheld,
guarding against allowing her own wishes to twist anything in
the slightest. Thus a long hard apprenticeship was necessary
before she could impart about the same meaning to the vilifica­
tion of hope and to the vilification of hopelessness.
Nevertheless, these two people who had not seen each other for
a long time had a thousand and one things to talk about. She
told a story about the recent Gion Festival; Yuichi told the story
of Shunsuke's uneasy trip in Kawada's yacht.
"Does Mr. Hinoki know about this recent letter?"
"No, why should he?"
"Well, you seem to consult Mr. Hinoki about everything."
"I wouldn't tell him about something like that." Yuichi thought
regretfully of his few remaining secrets and went on : "Mr.
Hinoki doesn't know anything about that."
"I wouldn't think so. In the old days that old man was an
incorrigible woman-chaser. But the strange thing was the
women did nothing but run away from him."
Sunset was over. The wind began to spring up faintly. Even
though the sun was down, there was still a clear glow off the
water. The sheen of the water still reached all the way to the
mountains, betraying the presence of the sea. The shadows were
deep on the surface of the sea close to the shores of the islands.
The olive-green shadows on the water contrasted with the sea
that still gorgeously reflected the light. The two got up and went
to supper.

The hotel was far from a settlement, and when the evening
meal was over there was nothing to do. They played some
records, and leafed through some bound volumes of picture

[ 370 ]
 Heroic Passion

magazines. They carefully read the travel folders of the airlines

and hotels. Thus Mrs. Kaburagi lowered herself, becoming like a
nurse to a child who wants to stay awake doing nothing for­
ever.
Mrs. Kaburagi perceived that what she had once imagined to
be pride of conquest had turned out to be nothing more than
childish caprice. If this discovery was not distasteful to her, nei­
ther was it disappointing. For she recognized that the joy Yuichi
alone seemed to be taking in this deepening night, his placid
contentment, the peculiar pleasure he took in not doing any­
thing, was based entirely on the awareness that she was there
beside him, in all her solicitude.
Mter a time Yuichi yawned. Then he said reluctantly : "Shall
we go to bed soon?"
''I'm sleepy; I can hardly keep my eyes open."
But Mrs. Kaburagi, who should have been sleepy, started
babbling when they got to the room. It was a babbling that was
beyond her control. Even when they had rested their heads on
the pillows of their separate beds, and turned off the lamp that
was on the little table between them , she kept up her cheerful,
feverish monologue. Her topics were innocent, innocuous, ener­
vating. Yuichi's answers came from the darkness at long inter­
vals. Finally, he was silent. Wholesome sleep took the place of
words. Mrs. Kaburagi, too, ceased talking. For more than thirty
minutes she listened to the youth's regular breathing. Her eyes
were wide awake ; she couldn't sleep. She lit the lamp. She
picked up the book on the night table. She was startled, then, by
the rustle of bedclothes as of someone turning in sleep, and
glanced toward the neighboring bed.
In truth, until this time Mrs. Kaburagi had been waiting. She
was tired of waiting, disillusioned with waiting, and then-even
though she had seen clearly since that strange peeping that wait­
ing was impossible-she still waited. Yuichi, however, who had
discovered the one person in the world he could relax with, the
one woman who was willing to talk to him, with supreme trust
stretched out his happily tired body and slept. He turned.
Though he was sleeping naked, he was too warm, and pushed
the blanket from his chest. The circle of light at his head made
his face, cut with deep shadows under the eyes, and his loosely
covered, rising and falling chest shine like a bust carved on an
ancient coin.

[ 37 I )
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

Mrs. Kaburagi altered her dream. To b e more exact, she

shifted from the subject of the dream to the object of the dream.
This subtle shift of vision , this shift from one chair to another in
her dream, this small unconscious change in attitude, led her to
give up waiting. She moved across to the other bed, like a snake
writhing across a stream. Her hands and anns trembled as they
supported her bending body. Her lips were directly opposite the
face of the sleeping youth. She closed her eyes. Her lips could
see well enough.
Endymion's sleep was profound. The young man did not
know who was cutting off the light across his sleeping face, or
what a feverish, sleepless night was pressing close. He did not
feel the stray hairs brushing his cheek. He only opened his lips
slightly, exposing the glistening rows of teeth.
Mrs. Kaburagi opened her eyes. Their lips had not yet
touched. It was now that she opened her eyes to her resolution
of valiant self-abnegation : If our lips so much as touched, in that
moment something would leave with a flutter of wings, never to
return. If I wish to maintain between this youth and me some­
thing like music that never ends, I must not move a finger. Night
and day I must hold my breath, careful never to disturb so much
as a p article of dust between us . . . . She regained her control
and returned to her bed. She pressed her cheek against her
wann pillow and looked fixedly at that form, like a bas-relief in
its circle of golden light. She turned off the lamp. The vision
persisted. She turned her face toward the wall; it was near dawn
when she finally slept.
This heroic ordeal was crowned with success. The next day
Mrs. Kaburagi awoke with a clear head. In the eyes with which
she looked at Yuichi's face deep in the sleep of morning, there
was a new, resolute power. Her emotions had been refined. She
picked up her pure white, wrinkled pillow and playfully threw it
at Yuichi's face.
"Wake up ! It's a lovely day. You can't sleep all day."
This late-summer day was much pleasanter than the day be­
fore, filled with promise of being a day to remember always.
Mter breakfast, they packed lunches and drinks, hired a car, and
set out to do some sightseeing around the farthest reaches of the
Shima Peninsula. They would return to the hotel by boat from
the beach where they had bathed the day before. From the
village of Ugata near the hotel, they went through wilds of

[ J72 ]
 Heroic Passion

burnished earth , from which scrubby pines, hemp palms, and

tiger lilies sprang here and there , and finally reached the port of
Nakiri. The view from Cape Daio, over which a giant pine
towered, held them breathless. As they stood buffeted by the
wind, they saw the white clothing of the pearl divers at their
task, looking like whitecaps breaking upon the sea. They saw on
a cape to the north the Anori lighthouse standing like a tall stick
of chalk, and the smoke from the pearl divers' fires rising on the
beaches of Cape Oi.
The old lady who was their guide was smoking a handmade
cigarette of chopped tobacco rolled in a camellia leaf. Her fin­
gers, yellow with age and nicotine, trembled as she pointed to
the end of misty Cape Kuni in the distance. There long, long ago
the Empress Jito had gone with many court ladies on a boating
excursion and held court for seven days.
Hearing this ancient, useless lore of travel was wearisome.
They returned to the hotel no more than an hour before the time
Yuichi was to depart. Mrs. Kaburagi, who did not h ave good
connections to Kyoto this evening, stayed behind, planning to
leave the next morning. About the time the evening calm began,
Yuichi left. Mrs. Kaburagi saw him off at the trolley stop just
below the hotel. The trolley came. The two shook bands, after
which Mrs. Kaburagi drew back abruptly, made her way to the
railing outside the station, and waved good-bye. She waved for a
long time, cheerfully, showing no emotion whatever, while the
scarlet evening sun shone on her cheek.
Yuichi was alone among a earful of peddlers and fishermen.
His heart was filled with gratitude toward this mistress of noble,
disinterested friendship. Gratitude welled up in him ; it made
him feel envious of Kaburagi, who had taken this perfect woman
as his wife.

[ 373 ]
 CHAPTER 3I

P R O B L E j}f S S P I R I T U A L
A N D F I N A N C IA L

WHEN HE GOT BACK to Tokyo, Yuichi ran directly into trou­

ble. During the short time he had been away, his mother's
kidney trouble had taken a turn for the worse.
Unaware what to strive for, what means to use in resisting, the
widow Minami, half blaming herself, had no recourse save to
become gravely ill. With marvelous facility, she became dizzy
and often for a very short time lost consciousness. Thin urine
welled from her constantly; the symptoms were certainly those
of kidney atrophy.
When he arrived home at seven in the morning and opened
the front door, Yuichi knew from the expression on Kiyo's face
that his mother was critically ill. The moment he entered, the
heavy odor of illness struck his nostrils. The joyful memories of
the trip were suddenly frozen in his heart.
Yasuko, exhausted from nursing her mother-in-law late into
the night, was not yet awake. Kiyo went to prepare his bath.
Yuichi made his way upstairs to the bedroom he shared with
Yasuko.
The high windows had been open throughout the night to let
in the cool air, and the rays of the rising sun now streamed in
and lit the skirt of the mosquito netting. Yuichi's bed was laid
out. The linen pads had been carefully arranged. On the pallet
next to his Yasuko was sleeping with Keiko.
Yuichi lifted the netting and slipped in. Softly he lay down on
the padding of his own bed. The baby opened her eyes. On her

[ 374 ]
 Problems Spiritual and Financial

mother's outstretched arm she lay, soberly and with wide eyes
obsen1ng her father. The scent of milk came to him faintly.
The infant suddenly smiled. It was as if drops of smile
dripped from the corners of her mouth. Yuichi poked her cheek
lightly with his finger. Kciko, her eyes unwavering, continued
smiling.
Yasuko started to turn over, rather painfully, then stopped and
opened her eyes. She saw the face of her husband, unexpectedly
close to her own. Yasuko did not smile at all.
During those few moments while Yasuko was awakening,
Yuichi's memory moved swiftly. He remembered the sleeping
face that he had so often gazed upon so intently, the sleeping
face that he had dreamed of-immaculate possession that he
would not harm for the world. He remembered her face filled
with surprise, joy, and trust that time in the hospital room dur­
ing the night. Yuichi could expect nothing from his wife when
she opened her eyes. He had merely returned from his trip dur­
ing which she had remained behind in despair. But his heart,
accustomed to being forgiven, yearned ; and his innocence, ac­
customed to being trusted, dreamed. In this instant his emotions
were like those of a beggar who asks for nothing, yet who has no
other skill save that of begging.
Heavy with sleep, Yasuko's eyelids opened. Yuichi saw a
Yasuko he had never seen before. She was a different woman.
She spoke in a sleepy, unvarying, yet not at all ambiguous
tone. "When did you get back? Have you had breakfast? Mother
is very sick. Did Kiyo tell you ? " she asked, as if reading off a
checklist. Then she said : 'Til fix your breakfast quickly; won't
you wait on the veranda? "
Yasuko arranged her hair and dressed hurriedly. She came
downstairs with the baby in her arms. She did not entrust the
child to her husband while she prepared breakfast, but laid her
down in the room next to the veranda where he was reading the
newspaper.
The morning had not yet warmed up. Yuichi blamed his un­
easiness on the night journey, so hot that he had slept almost not
at all. He clicked his tongue as he thought : I now understand
clearly what they call the unimpeded pace of misfortune. It has
a fixed speed like that of a clock . . . But one always feels like
this when he hasn't had enough sleep ! It's all the doing of Mrs.
Kaburagi l

[ 375 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

The change in Yasuko as she opened her eyes in the ex­

tremity of fatigue and discovered the face of her husband before
her was a surprise mostly to Yasuko herself.
She had formed the habit of closing her eyes and sketching in
her mind down to the last detail the picture of her suffering and
then opening her eyes and seeing it before her. That picture was
beautiful, magnificent. This morning, however, this was not
what she saw. There was only the face of a youth, outlined by
the rays of the morning sun, shining through a corner of the
mosquito netting, giving the impression of an inanimate figure of
clay.
Yasuko opened a can of coffee and poured hot water into the
white china coffee pot. In her hands there was an unfeeling
quickness; her fingers did not tremble in the slightest.
After a while, Yasuko placed Yuichi's breakfast before him on
� \vide silver-plated tray.
It was a delicious breakfast to Yuichi. The morning shadows
were still abundant in the garden. The whitewashed railing of
the veranda shone \'lith dazzling late-summer dew. The young
couple silently ate breakfast together. Keiko quietly slept. The
sick mother had not yet awakened.
"The doctor said Mother should be taken to the hospital some­
time today. We've been waiting for you to come home to make
arrangements to have her admitted."
"All right."
Yuichi looked attentively at the garden. He blinked as he ob­
served the morning sun lighting the treetops of the pasanias. The
mother's grave illness drew the young couple together. Yuichi
had the illusion that now Yasuko's heart was once again firmly
his, and he took advantage of the moment to employ the charms
any husband would use.
"It's good to have breakfast, just the two of us, isn't it?"

Yasuko smiled. There was an impenetrable indifference in her

smile. Yuichi was dismayed. His face turned red \'lith embar­
rassment. Then he poured out these words-a transparent, insin­
cere, overdramatized outpouring, perhaps, but at the same time,
perhaps also a heartfelt, sincere confession couched in words

[ 376 ]
 Problems Spiritual and Financial

that he had never before uttered to a woman. "While I was

away," he said, "all I thought of was you. It's become clear to me
what with all our troubles of the last few days that you mean
more to me than anyone."
Yasuko remained calm. She smiled a light, noncommittal
smile. It was as if Yuichi's words were those of an unknown
country. She looked at his lips as if they were being moved by
someone talking on the other side of a thick pane of glass. His
words did not come through.

However, Yasuko had already resolved that she would set­

tle down, bring up Keiko, and never leave Yuichi's house until
she was ugly and stricken in years. This virtue, born from hope­
lessness, had a power no sin could influence.
Yasuko had forsaken the world of absolutes; she had left it
completely. When she had been in that world, her love yielded
to no evidence. Yuichi's coldness, his abrupt rejections, his late
homecomings, his overnight absences, his secrets, the fact that
he never loved a woman-in the face of such evidence the affair
of the anonymous letter was a trivial matter. Yet Yasuko had
remained unmoved, because she lived in another world.
Yasuko did not step off her world on her own initiative. She
was dragged off it. Yuichi, who as a husband was perhaps too
kind, had deliberately enlisted the aid of Mrs. Kaburagi and
wrenched his wife out of the quiet of love's realm, out of the un­
restricted, limpid realm in which she lived, where impossibilities
could not exist, and dragged her into the disorderly world of
reciprocal love. Yasuko was now hemmed in by the evidence of
that world. There were with her there things she had known all
along, things familiar to her, with which she was hemmed in by
the dull, dumb wall of impossibility. She had only one method of
dealing with it all. That lay in not feeling anything-in not
seeing, in not hearing anything.
While Yuichi was away on that trip, Yasuko had donned the
arts and artifices of this new world in which she was forced to
live. She had to go so far as to treat herself resolutely as a
woman without love-even of herself. She had turned into a
deaf mute, outwardly adjusted; she served her husband his
breakfast wearing a stylish apron in a yellow checked pattern.

[ 377 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

"Would you like some more coffee?" she said. She said it \\ith­
out effort.
A bell rang. It was the hand bell beside the pillow in Mrs.
Minami's sickroom.
"She must be awake," Yasuko said. The two went to the sick­
room. Yasuko opened the shutters.
"Have you come horne at last?" the widow said, not lifting her
head from the pillow. Yuichi saw death in her face. It was
swollen with dropsy.

That year there were no typhoons of consequence between

the 2 1 oth day and the 22oth day. Of course there were several
typhoons, but they all just missed Tokyo, causing no severe wind
or water damage.
Yaichiro Kawada was extremely busy. Mornings he was at the
bank. Mternoons he held conferences. His executives huddled
\\ith him in conferences over the question of how to invade the
sales network of a competing firm. At the same time he was
negotiating with an electrical supply company and other subcon­
tractors. He was involved in negotiations \\ith directors of a
French auto company now visiting Japan, working toward
agreements on technical cooperation, patent rights, and commis­
sions. At night, as a rule, he entertained his banking associates at
geisha houses. Also, based on intelligence reports his labor rela­
tions chief brought him periodically, he had come to understand
that strikebreaking preparations on the part of the company had
been quite unsuccessful and that the union was developing
momentum toward a strike.
The tic in Kawada's right cheek was getting worse. It was the
only emotional weakness in his otbe!MsP- imperturbable exterior,
and it threatened him. Hidden behind his proud, German , never
downturned face ; behind his fine nose ; behind the clear line of
the cleft of his upper lip ; behind his rimless glasses, Kawada's
sensitive heart moaned and bled. At night, before be went to
sleep, he would read a page from a collection of Holderlin's early
poetry. He would peer at it stealthily as if reading an erotic
passage, intoning : " 'Ewig muss die liebste Liebe darben . . : " It
was the last verse of the poem "To Nature." " Was wir lie ben ist
ein Schatten nur. . . : He is free," groaned the wealthy bachelor

[ 378 ]
 Problems Spiritual and Financial

in his bed. "Just because he's young and beautiful, he thinks he

has the right to spit on me."
The twofold jealousy that makes the love of the aging homo­
sexual unbearable carne between Kawada and his bachelor's
sleep. Take the jealousy of a man whose woman is unfaithful
and combine with it the jealousy that a woman past her prime
feels toward a young, beautiful woman, and combine with that
doubly intricate product the peculiar consciousness that the per­
son one loves is of the same sex, and you have an exaggerated,
absolutely unforgivable humiliation in love. If a prominent man
experienced something as enormous as this at the h ands of a
woman, he would be able to endure it. But nothing could do
more harm to the self-respect of someone like Kawada than to
have the humiliations of love for a man thrown into his face.
Kawada recalled how one day when he was young he was
seduced by a rich merchant in New York's Hotel Waldorf­
Astoria. Then he remembered the night of a party in Berlin,
when he and a gentleman he knew got into the man's Hispano
Suiza and headed for his villa in the suburbs. The two men in
swallow-tail coats embraced in the car oblivious to the head­
lights of the other cars. Their perfumed hardboiled shirt fronts
rubbed against each other.
It was the last flourish of Europe before world panic. It was
the time when an aristocratic lady and a Negro, an ambassador
and a villain, a king and an actor in American action films slept
together. Kawada recalled the boy sailors of Marseilles and their
shiny, white, prominent chests, like waterfowl. Then he thought
of the beautiful boy he had picked up in a cafe on the Via
Veneto in Rome, and of the Arab boy in Algiers-Alfredo Jemir
Musa Zarzal.
And Yuichi surpassed all these ! Once Kawada found time to
meet Yuichi. "Do you want to see a movie ?" he said.
"No, I don't want to see a movie," Yuichi said.
They passed a billiard parlor, and Yuichi, who didn't play
much, suddenly went in, for no good reason. Kawada didn't
play. For all of three hours, Yuichi idled around the pool table
while the busy captain of industry sat in a chair und(.r a faded
pink curtain waiting disgustedly for the one he loved to end his
fit of bad temper. The blue veins in Kawada's head pounded ; his
cheeks quivered ; his heart shouted out loud : "Here he keeps me
waiting in a poolroom in a chair with the straw corning out of it t

[ 3 79 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

I, who a m never kept waiting by anybody! I who don't mind

keeping callers waiting for a week i"
The wrecks of this world are of various kinds . A bystander
might have looked at the destruction Kawada predicted for him­
self as a quite luxurious one, after all. It alone, however, was to
Kawada at this moment the most frightening destruction possi­
ble, and with good reason he concentrated on avoiding it.
Kawada was fifty years old, and the good fortune he· hoped for
was to look with contempt at life. This was at first glance a very
cheap good fortune, one that society's men of fifty come to en­
tirely unconsciously. The resistance to life of the homosexual
who refuses to be subordinate in his work, however, audaciously
floods the world with this sensitivity wherever there is space,
awaiting the chance to permeate the world of men's work. He
knew that Wilde's famous pronouncement was nothing more
than sour grapes : "I have put all my genius into my life ; I have
put only my talent into my works."
Wilde was forced to say that, of course. The homosexual of
promise, whoever he is, is one who recognizes that certain man­
liness within himself, and loves it, and holds fast to it, and the
masculine virtue that Kawada recognized in himself was his
ever-ready nineteenth-century predilection for diligence. A
strange trap for one to be in ! As in that long-ago warlike time,
loving a woman was an effeminate act; to Kawada any emotion
that ran counter to his own masculine virtue seemed effeminate.
To samurai and homosexual the ugliest vice is femininity.
Even though their reasons for it differ, the samurai and the
homosexual do not see manliness as instinctive but rather as
something gained only from moral effort. The ruin Kawada
feared was moral ruin. The reason that he was an adherent of
the Conservative party lay in its policy of protecting the things
that should have been his enemies : the established order and the
family system based on heterosexual love.
Yuichi's shadow flickered over every part of his social life.
Like a man who makes the mistake of looking at the sun and
wherever he looks thereafter sees an afterimage of the sun,
Kawada saw Yuichi's image in the sound of the door of the
president's office where Yuichi had no right to be, in the sound
of the phone, even in the profiles of young people in the street
outside the car window. That afterimage was no more than a
ghost. Since the idea that he should part with Yuichi first entered

[ ;8o ]
 Problems Spiritual and Financial

his mind, that empty wraith had gradually become monstrous

In truth Kawada had h alf-confused the emptiness of his fatal·
ism with the emptiness of his heart. In the decision to part
company, he showed he preferred the alternative of quickly and
cruelly killing his passion to living with the fear that he would
someday find the passion withered inside him. Thus, at p arties
with nobles and famous geisha, the pressure of the rule of the
majority that young Yuichi too had felt, crushed the haughty
heart of Kawada, which should have been abundantly equipped
to resist it. His many uninhibited dirty stories had been the toast
of the banquet hall, but now this not necessarily time-honored
art filled Kawada with self-repugnance. Of late his taciturnity
froze the very heart of the company's social director. Even
though it seemed that under the circumstances parties would gCl
much better if the president did not appear, Kawada's sense of
duty always urged his presence.
This was the state of Kawada's mind. One night when, after a
long absence, Yuichi suddenly appeared at Kawada's horne and
Kawada happened to be there, the delight of the unexpected
meeting upset his resolve to call it quits. His eyes could not get
enough of looking at Yuichi's face. Even though mad imagina­
tiveness usually left his eyes clear, now the same thing made him
drunk. Strangely beautiful youth ! Kawada was drunk with the
mystery before him. With Yuichi, it seemed, this evening's visit
was purely a whim, but even so, there was no one like him at
underestimating his own miraculous powers.
The night was still young, and so Kawada went out for a drink
with the youth. They went to a not-too-noisy high-class bar­
under these circumstances, of course, not an "in" one-a bar
where there were women.
It happened that four or five of Kawada's close friends were
there drinking. There were the president of a well-known drug
company and some of his directors. This man, Matsumura by
name, winked slightly, and, with a smile, waved to them.
Matsumura, second of his family to become president of the
firm, was not much over thirty. He was a notorious dandy, self­
important, and he was one of the fellowship. He paraded his
vices, proud of them. Matsumura's pet notion was to convert all
the people under his control to his heresy, or if he couldn't do
that, to win their approval. Matsumura's diligent and industrious
old secretary was a loyal man who strove to believe that nothing

[ 381 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

was as refined as homosexual love. He berated himself that he

was so plebeian as not to possess so refined a nature.
It was Kawada who was placed in an ironic position. When
he, so circumspect in these matters, appeared with this beautiful
youth, his friend and his colleagues stared at them openly over
their drinks.
Mter a time, when Kawada went to the men's room, Mat­
sumura nonchalantly left his place and sat down in Kawada's
chair. Before the waitress at Yuichi's side, he pretended to be
talking about business and said magnanimously : "Oh , Mr.
Minami, there's something I want very badly to talk with you
about. Can you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"
Just that much was said, with eyes never wavering from
Yuichi's face ; each word, every syllable, was pronounced with
deliberation, like placing a stone in the game of Go. Yuichi said
"Yes," before he realized it.
"Will you come? Good. I'll meet you tomorrow evening at five
o'clock in the bar of the Imperial Hotel." Above the din, the feat
was completed in a stroke, with all the naturalness in the world.
When Kawada returned to his seat, Matsumura was already
back at his own table, chatting away.
Kawada's acute sense of smell, however, quickly picked up a
lingering odor like that of a cigarette that had been stamped out.
It was quite painful for him to act as if he hadn't noticed it; if
the pain continued long he would be in a bad temper indeed. He
feared that he would create suspicion in Yuichi and then, finding
it all too much to bear, would have to confess the reasons for his
moodiness. So he suggested they leave, and, after an amiable
farewell to Matsumura, they went out, much earlier than ex­
pected. Kawada stepped to the car and told the driver to wait
there while they walked to another bar.
Then Yuichi told him what had happened. The youth walked
along the rutted pavement, and, hands in the pockets of his gray
flannel trousers and head down, said, as if it mattered little : "A
while ago Mr. Matsumura asked me to meet him at the Imperial
Hotel bar tomorrow; he wants to have dinne r with me. I couldn't
say anything but yes. What a pain !" He clucked his tongue. "I
wanted to tell you right away, but it was hard to do so in that
bar."
Kawada's j oy on hearing this was unbounded. This haughty

[ ]82 l
 Problems Spiritual and Financial

man of affairs, given to modest joys, said "Thank you," with

heartfelt appreciation. "I'm afraid I made a real problem out of
wondering just how long after Matsumura asked you, you would
tell me about it. And since you couldn't talk about it in the bar,
I'd say you got it out in the shortest time," he said. It was a
compliment heavy with logic, a sincere confession.
At the next bar, Kawada and Yuichi laid their plan for the
following day, for all the world as if they were making a busi­
ness deal. Matsumura and Yuichi had no business connections
whatever. Matsumura, moreover, had desired Yuichi before this.
The implications of the invitation were obvious.
"Now we're accomplices," Kawada said to himself, with joy he
could hardly contain. "Yuichi and I are accomplices ! How
closely our hearts will beat together!"
Kawada's tone was matter-of-fact, no different from that he
used when in the president's office. He was careful when the
waitress was near and instructed Yuichi as follows : "Now we
know how you feel. You don't want to go to the trouble of
calling Matsumura to call things off. Here's what let's do."
( Kawada always said "Do this," in the corporation; he was not a
man ever to say "Let's do." )
"Matsumura is master of his domain, so it's no good to treat
him unceremoniously. Granted, circumstances were what they
were and you gave your consent. Why don't you go to the place
agreed on? Accept his invitation to dinner. Afterward, say, 'That
was a fine meal; now I'd like to buy you a drink.' Matsumura will
come along without a care in the world.
"Then let's work it out so I happen to be at the same bar you
go to. I'll be waiting beginning at seven o'clock. Now what bar is
good? Matsumura will be on his guard for places I go to, and
won't come, so it willnot seem right for me suddenly to appear
accidentally at a bar I've never been to. It must all be carried
out very naturally. Oh, yes. There's the bar ]e l'aime, where I've
gone with you four or five times, in this neighborhood . That's
fine. If Matsumura balks, lie to him-tell him something such as
it's a bar I never go to. How's that? That looks like a great plan
that has us protected on three sides.''
Yuichi said : "Let's do it." Kawada realized he would have to
arrange to cancel his business engagements for the next evening
the first thing in the morning. The two did no more drinking for
 F O R B I D D EN C O L O R S

the time being. Their pleasure that night w a s boundless.

Kawada wondered how he had ever thought even for a moment
of breaking off with this young man.

The next day at five, Matsumura was at the bar in the grill
of the Imperial Hotel, waiting for Yuichi. His heart was filled
with all manner of sensual anticipation, glutted with conceit
and confidence. Matsumura, though a company head, dreamed
of nothing more than being an interloper, and slightly shook the
glass of cognac he was warming in both hands.
Five minutes after the appointed time, he tasted keenly the
pleasure of being kept waiting. The guests at the bar were
almost all foreigners. They talked endlessly in English that
sounded like a dog barking deep in its throat. When it occurred
to Matsumura after another five minutes that Yuichi might not
appear, he tried to feel in the next five minutes what he had felt
five minutes before, but the next five minutes were already
altered.
This five-minute period was a time for vigilance. Yuichi h ad
indeed come and was in the doorway. He was hesitating, it
seemed, about whether to come in. The feeling that he was there
filled the place. When that five minutes was past, the feeling
evaporated, and a new feeling, that he was not there, replaced it.
At about five fifteen, determined once more that he must try to
wait, Matsumura's heart repeatedly prompted him to change his
mood. When twenty minutes had gone by, however, even these
measures no longer helped.
He was battered by uneasiness and disappointment, busily
trying to reconstruct at least the intolerable feeling of anticipa­
tion that caused his present anguish. I'll wait a minute more,
Matsumura thought. His hopes were hitched to the circuit of the
second hand as it approached and went past the sixty mark.
Thus Matsumura, in a way unusual to him, waited and wasted
forty-five minutes.
About an hour after Matsumura resignedly left the place,
Kawada interrupted his work early and headed for the ]e l'aime.
There Kawada tasted, though at slower pace, the same agony of
waiting that Matsumura had undergone. The punishment of his
 Problems Spiritual and Financial

long wait, however, was many times that of Matsumura; the

cruelty of it was beyond comparison with what Matsumura had
suffered. Kawada waited in the ]e l'aime until it closed. His pain,
aggravated by his imagination, expanded and deepened with
each moment. He refused to resign himself to it; his pain could
do no more than mount.
In the first hour the breadth of Kawada's dreams was beyond
limit. They're taking a long time over the meal. He was probably
asked to some Japanese-style restaurant somewhere, Kawada
thought. Perhaps it was a restaurant attended by geisha. This
idea seemed plausible, for a man like Matsumura would be
punctilious about having geisha present.
A little more time went by. His heart, laboring to minimize his
fears that it was becoming far too late, suddenly exploded into a
series of new doubts : Yuichi was lying, wasn't he? No, that can't
be. His youth couldn't stand up against Matsumura's cunning.
He's naive ! He's innocent. He loves me; there's no doubt about
it. It's only that he couldn't get Matsumura to come here by his
own power. Or perhaps Matsumura saw through my plans and,
of course, wouldn't fall for the trick. Yuichi and Matsumura
must be at another bar now. Yuichi must be waiting for the
chance to slip over where I am. I must be patient a little while
longer. Thinking thus, Kawada was assailed by regret.
Oh, my, just out of damned vanity, I've gone and made Yuichi
fall into Matsumura's clutches. Why didn't I just h ave him turn
down the invitation? If Yuichi didn't like phoning and calling it
off, I could have called Matsumura and done it myself, whether
it was proper or not.
Suddenly a wild fancy ripped at him : Right now, in a bed
somewhere, Matsumura is hugging Yuichi, for all I know!
The logic of each surmise gradually broke down into frag­
ments. The logic that held Yuichi pure of heart and the logic
that revealed him as impossibly low contradicted each other
painfully. Kawada sought relief from the phone at the counter.
He phoned Matsumura. Though it was after eleven, Matsumura
wasn't home yet. He did what was forbidden and called Yuichi's
home, but he wasn't there. He asked the number of Yuichi's
mother's hospital and, throwing common sense and tact to the
winds, implored the hospital operator to check the hospital
room. Yuichi was not there either.
 FORBIDDEN C O L O R S

Kawada was beside himself. Mter he got home h e couldn't

sleep. At two o'clock in the morning, he called Yuichi's home
again. Yuichi had not yet returned.
Kawada could not sleep at all. The next morning was a clear,
refreshing, early fall day, and at nine he phoned Yuichi once
more. And now Yuichi answered. Kawada had few hard words
to say to the youth when he came to the phone, but he asked
him to come to his office at ten-thirty. This was the first time
Kawada had asked Yuichi to the company. On his way to work
in the car, Kawada's heart mulled over the very masculine deci­
sion he had arrived at during the night : "Once you decide a
thing, never deviate from it. Whatever it is, hold to your deci­
sion I"
Kawada entered his office at ten. His secretary greeted him.
He called the director who had attended last night's banquet in
Kawada's stead, but the man had not yet arrived. Instead, an­
other director dropped in to pass the time of day.
Yaichiro Kawada closed his eyes in vexation. Although he had
slept not one wink, he had no headache. His racing mind was
clear.
The director leaned at the window and toyed with the tassel
of the window shade. He said in his usual loud voice : "I've got a
hangover; my head is splitting. Last night I was out with some
fellow, and we drank until three o'clock this morning. At two
o'clock we left Shimbashi and then woke up all the bars in
Kagurazaka. Who do you think it was? It was Matsumura, of
Matsumura Pharmaceuticals." Listening, Kawada's j aw dropped.
"Your body just can't take running around with fellows as young
as that," the director went on.
Concealing his interest, Kawada asked : "Who was Matsumura
running around with?"
"Matsumura was alone. I'm an old friend of his father. He
goes out with me as if he were dragging his old man around.
Yesterday I deliberately got home early, thinking I'd take a
quick bath, when he called and asked me out."
Kawada was ready to let out a bleat of joy, but a stubborn
second thought held him back. This lucky intelligence did not
make up for last evening's torture. Also, Matsumura could have
asked this trusted director to make a false report that Yuichi was
not along. One could not say that was not the case. "When once
you decide a thing, never deviate from it."

[ 386 ]
 Problems Spiritual and Financial

The director then brought up various topics connected with

their work. Kawada gave astute answers that surprised himself.
The secretary came in and announced a caller. "It's a relative of
mine, a student," said Kawada; "he's looking for a job, but his
grades are pretty bad." He frowned. The director decided to
leave, and then Yuichi came in .
In the fresh light of the early autumn morning, youth alone
shone from the young face. Without a single cloud, with­
out a hint of shadow, that face ever reborn from morning to
morning clutched at the heart of Kawada. This youth's face
belied his exertions of the night before, as well as his betrayal,
and showed no hint that it might have made another person
suffer. It knew no recompense; even if it had participated in a
killing the night before, surely it would not have changed. He
wore a blue blazer, from which the creases in his gray flannel
trousers fell straight as an arrow. He approached Kawada with
perfect composure.
Kawada himself opened the argument, with a clumsiness of
which even he was aware : "What happened last night?"
The beautiful youth showed his manly white teeth and smiled.
He sat down in the chair indicated to him and said : "That busi­
ness of Matsumura's was a pain in the neck, so I didn't go to
meet him. So I didn't have to meet you either, I figured."
Kawada was accustomed to explanations like this, full of con­
tradictions.
"Why didn't you have to come to meet me?"
Yuichi smiled again. Then, squirming so that the chair
squealed, like a rude schoolboy, he said : "Day before yesterday,
and yesterday too?"
"I called your home I don't know how many times."
"That's what the old girl says."
Kawada showed the reckless valor of one who had been
beaten and cornered. Suddenly he changed the subject to
Yuichi's mother's illness : "Are you having trouble meeting her
hospital expenses?"
"Not particularly," the youth answered.
"I won't ask where you stayed last night. I'll just give you a
gift for your mother in the hospital. All right? I'll give you what
you think you need. If you're satisfied, just nod." Kawada's tone
became all business.
"And from now on, I want you to stay away from me alto-
 F O R B ID D E N C O L O R S

gether. You won't hear any more from m e . I beg of you from
now on not to put me in any ridiculous predicament or interfere
with my work."
He snatched a checkbook from his pocket and, wondering
whether he should give Yuichi a few minutes' time to think, sat
irresolute, looking up stealthily at the youth's face. Until this
time it was, in fact, Kawada who had been looking down. The
youth's eyes were lifted. In this instant Kawada waited for the
youth's explanation, or apology, or appeal, and at the same time
feared all of them. The youth, however, sat silent and proud, his
back straight.
The sound of a check being ripped from the book broke the
silence. Yuicbi looked at it; it was for 2oo,ooo yen. He silently
slid it back with his fingertips.
Kawada tore up the check. He wrote a larger sum on another.
He slid that toward Yuichi. Yuichi again refused it. This abso­
lutely ridiculous and solemn game was repeated a number of
times. When it rose to 40o,ooo yen, Yuichi thought of the soo,­
o o o yen he had borrowed from Shunsuke. Kawada's behavior ex­
cited only his disgust, and the youth had considered bidding
Kawada up and then taking the check and tearing it to bits be­
fore his eyes and saying good-bye with a flourish. When the
figure of soo,ooo yen flickered in his mind, however, he came
to his senses and waited for the next figure to be named.
Yaichiro Kawada's proud forehead was not bowe d ; a twitch
ran like lightning down his right cheek. With the last check in
tatters before him, he wrote another and handed it across the
desk. It was for soo,ooo yen .
The youth held out his fingers, folded the check slowly, and
put it in his breast pocket. He stood up, and \vith a smile that
showed he bore no hard feelings, bowed.
"I appreciate all you've done for me for so long a time.
Sayonara."
Kawada did not have the power to get up from his chair.
Finally he reached out his hand and said : "Sayonara." As they
shook hands Yuichi noticed that Kawada's hand shook severely.
Yuichi did not allow compassion to get the better of him, which
was lucky for Kawada, who would have died rather than be
pitied. His natural emotions, nevertheless, were tinged with feel­
ings of friendship. He preferred elevators, so he didn't go down
the stairs, but pressed the button in the marble pillar.

[ 388 ]
 Problems Spiritual and Financial

His prospective employment with Kawada Motors had gone

up in smoke, and his social ambitions were back where they had
started. With the soo,ooo yen, Kawada had bought back his
right to look at the world with contempt.
Yuichi's ambition was made of extremely fanciful stuff, but
the collapse of his dreams promised to interfere with his return
to reality. Broken dreams, to a greater extent than dreams still
in force, are apt to treat reality as an enemy. The possibility of
filling the yawning gap between his dreams of his powers and his
occasional sober estimates of his powers seemed blocked for the
time being. Moreover, having learned to see, he recognized that
it had been blocked from the beginning. For detestable modem
society has a way of frustrating dreams; this is one of its chief
powers.
To be sure, Yuichi had learned to see. Without the interposi­
tion of a mirror, however, it was difficult to see youth in the very
middle of youth. The fact that the negations of youth end in
abstraction while the affirmations of youth h ave a sexual leaning
seems to stem from this difficulty.
Last night, on a sudden gamble, he had broken his appoint­
ments with both Matsumara and Kawada and spent a pure eve­
ning drinking with a school friend until morning. But this so­
called purity was only physical.
Yuichi looked at his own position. Once he h ad smashed his
way out of the cage of the mirror and forgotten his own face and
come to regard it as something that did not exist, then for the
first time he had begun searching for the position of tha seeing
person. He had been set free from the childish ambition of
dreaming that society might supply him with some kind of
image that would be a substitute for the image that the mirror
had reflected. Seeking this in the very middle of youth , now, he
was impatient to complete the difficult operation of basing an
existence on something he couldn't see. A decade ago, his body
could h ave accomplished this operation with the greatest of
ease.
Yuichi felt Shunsuke's spell. He must first return the soo,ooo
yen to Shunsuke. Everything else had to come after that.
A few days later, on a cool autumn evening , the beautiful
 F O R B I D D E N C OL O R S

youth visited Shunsuke's horne without an y previous notice. It

happened that the old man was at work on a manuscript be had
been carrying about with him for several weeks. This autobio­
graphical essay Shunsuke Hinoki had titled "On Shunsuke
Hinoki." He had not realized that Yuichi would be visiting him,
and he was reading over the unfinished manuscript under the
desk lamp. He was marking it here and there with a red pen­
cil.

[ 390 ]
 CHAPTER 32

GRAND FINALE

THAT MORNING, Yuichi had done nothing of consequence.

His employment examination for Yasuko's father's department
store was a week away. Thanks to his father-in-law's good
offices, his job was already assured. As a matter of form, how­
ever, he had to take the test. By way of preparation, it was
important that he pay a visit to his father-in-law, as a matter of
business courtesy. It would have been well to do it sooner, but
his mother's worsening health provided a useful excuse for post·
ponement.
Yuichi was not in the mood to visit his father-in-law today. He
had in his wallet the check for soo,ooo yen. Yuichi set out for
the Ginza alone.
The city trolley stopped at the Sukiyabashi Station and
seemed not to be going any farther. The passengers flowed out
onto the street and hurried in the direction of Owari Cho. Into
the clear autumn sky, black smoke mounted in thick clouds.
Yuichi got off the trolley and mingled with the crowd, hurry­
ing with them. The Owari Cho crossroads was already filled with
people. Three red fire engines had stopped in the middle of the
throng. They threw long streams of water where the black
smoke was mounting.
A big cabaret was on fire. From this side the vie\V was cut off
by the two-story building near at hand, but every now and then
rising spires of flame flashed in the black smoke. If it had been
night, the smoke, enclosing innumerable sparks which would
then have been visible, would have been a shapeless black. The
fire had already moved to the surrounding stores. The second

[ 39 1 ]
 FORBIDDEN COLORS

floor o f the two-story building nearby was already burning. Only

the outer walls seemed to remain.
The e ggshell paint of the outer walls, however, was still its
vivid and clear everyday color. The crowd shouted praises for
the courage of one of the firemen, who had climbed to the roof
half surrounded by flame and with his fire axe was breaking
down the roof. The sight of these little black human figures
gambling against death seemed to strike the hearts of the crowd
with pleasure-a pleasure not unlike that lewd one.
A building under renovation near the fire was surrounded with
scaffolding. A number of people were on the scaffolds guarding
against the spread of the fire.
The fire unexpectedly made little sound. Explosions-the
sound of the ridgepole burning and falling, and the like-could
not be heard here. There was a dull, buzzing sound, but that was
from a newspaper's red, single-engined airplane circling over­
head.
Yuichi felt something like fog playing about his cheek and
took cover. An old, rotten hose belonging to one of the fire
trucks, which was conducting water from one of the hydrants at
the curb, was sending up a spray of water out of a hole that had
been repaired. It cascaded down on the street like rain. The
spray wet the window of a drygoods store. It made it difficult to
see the employees inside the store as they crouched among their
personal effects and the portable safe they had brought out,
worrying about the spread of the fire.
The water from the hoses ceased every once in a while. The
streams in the sky visibly withdrew and drooped downward. In
those intervals the black smoke kept drifting off at an angle,
seemingly without end.
"The National Guard ! The National Guard !" the crowd
shouted.
A truck pushed in upon the crowd and stopped. From its rear
a contingent of white-helmeted guardsmen descended. It was
only a unit of policemen brought to control traffic, but the fear it
excited among the crowd was laughable. Perhaps the crowd felt
stirring within itself seditious leanings that might have brought
out the National Guard. Before the advancing phalanx of
guardsmen, their clubs at their sides, the people surged in re­
treat.
Their blind power was awesome. Individuals one by one lost

[ 392 ]
 Grand Finale

their will ; they had been taken over by the agencies of a power
outside themselves. The pressure to mount back on the sidewalk
pushed the people standing in front of the stores back against
the display windows.
At one store, a youthful group standing in front of a large,
expensive, single-pane store window, spread their arms out wide
and shouted : "Watch the glass ! Watch the glass !"
Like moths around a flame, most of the crowd was impervious
to the dangers of the glass.
As he was being pushed about, Yuichi heard a sound Iil�e fire­
crackers. The crowd had trampled on some balloons that had
been torn from the hand of a child. Then Yuichi noticed, under
the stampede of feet, a blue wooden sandal that was being
sloshed about like a bit of flotsam.
When finally Yuichi managed to free himself from the mob, he
found himself facing in a strange direction. He redid his disar­
ranged necktie and walked away. He didn't look again in the
direction of the fire. The extraordinary energy of the mob scene,
however, had stirred in him an inexplicable excitement.
Since he had no place to go, Yuichi walked for a time and
finally went into a theater that was showing a movie he did not
especially want to see.

. . . Shunsuke laid down his red pencil.

His shoulder was very stiff. He stood up and, striking the
shoulder, moved to the large library next to the study. About a
month earlier, Shunsuke had disposed of about half of his collec­
tion. As he got older his books had come to seem useless to him.
He kept only those that he particularly liked, took down the
empty shelves, and had a window cut through in the wall that
had so long blocked off the light. In the north window, so close
to the foliage of the magnolia tree, he had two clear panes of
glass installed. The cot he had kept in the study for naps he
moved into the library. There, Shunsuke would make himself
comfortable and riffle through the pages of the books lined up
on a small table.
Shunsuke entered the study and looked for something on the
shelf of original works in French literature, which was up fairly
high. He soon found the book he was looking for. It was a

[ 393 J
 FORBIDDEN C O L O R S

special edition with rice-paper pages o f Musa Paidica i n French

translation. Musa Paidica is a collection of poems by the Roman
poet Straton, of the time of Hadrian. He followed in the steps of
the Emperor Hadrian, who loved Antinous, and he wrote poems
only about beautiful boys :

Let the cheek be fair

Or dipped in honey shades,
Of flaxen hue the hair
Or black with every grace;
Let the eyes be brown
Or let me disappear
Into those flashing pools
Of deepest black.

He of the honey-colored skin , the black hair, and the jet-black

eyes must have been born in Asia Minor, as was the famous
Eastern slave Antinous. The ideal youthful beauty dreamed of
by second-century Romans was Asian in nature.
Shunsuke again took Keats's Endymion from the shelf. His
eyes moved over the verses he had almost committed to mem­
ory.
Just a little more, the old author thought.
Already nothing is missing of the material that visions are
made of; in just a little while it will be complete. The image of
adamantine youth will be ready. It's been a long time since I felt
palpitations like this or such reasonless fears just before complet­
ing a work. In the moment of completion, that final supreme
moment, what will appear?
Shunsuke stretched himself diagonally across the bed and idly
turned the pages of the book. He listened to the sounds about
him. All over the garden the insects of autumn were chorusing.
In a corner of the bookstacks the Complete Works of Shun­
suM Hinoki, just brought out last month, stood, all twenty
volumes in a row. The stamped-gold characters shone forth in
dull, monochromatic brilliance. Twenty volumes of repetition of
the same sneer of boredom. As a man might, purely out of
politeness, chuck the chin of an ugly child, the old author idly
cupped his h and and caressed the rows of characters on the
spines of his collected works.
On the two or three small tables around the bed, a number of
books were scattered-seemingly open to the page last read­
their white pages open like so many dead wings.

[ 39 4 ]
 Grand Finale

There was a collection of the poems of Ton-a of the Nijo

school, a Taiheihi opened to the pages dealing with the Great
Priest of the Shiga Temple, a copy of Okagami handed down
from the Retired Emperor Kazan, a collection of the poems of
the Shogun Yoshihisa Ashikaga, who died young, and a sumptu­
ously bound combined edition of the Kojiki and the Nihonshoki.
In those last two works the theme is endlessly repeated that so
many young and beautiful princes have had their lives cut off in
the flower of their youth, with the exposure of some foul love
affair or insurrection or plot, or have ended their lives them­
selves. Prince Karu was one. Prince Otsu was another. Shunsuke
loved the blighted youth of ancient times.
He heard a sound at the door of the study. It was ten p .m.
There was no reason for a caller to come this late. It must be the
old housekeeper bringing up tea. Shunsuke answered without
looking up. It wasn't the old servant who entered. It was Yuichi .
"Are you working?" he asked. "I headed up here so quickly the
housekeeper was too surprised to do anything to stop me."
Shunsuke carne out of the library and looked at Yuichi stand­
ing in the middle of the study. The beautiful young man's arrival
had been so sudden that it seemed as if he had appeared out of
all the books Shunsuke had been poring over.
The two exchanged the salutations appropriate to the great
length of time since they had last seen each other. Shunsuke
conducted Yuichi to an easy chair and went to get the wine
bottle he kept for company in the library cupboard.
Yuichi heard a cricket chirping in a corner of the study. The
room was just as he had first seen it. On the knickknack shelves
surrounding the window on three sides were the many pieces of
ancient pottery; their position had not been changed in the
slightest. The beautiful totem doll of ancient crafting was where
it had been originally. Nowhere were flowers of the season visi­
ble. The black marble mantel clock was still gloomily carrying
the time . If the old maidservant neglected to wind it, her old
master, who had very little to do with everyday affairs, would
not touch it either, and in a few days the clock would run
down.
Yuichi now took a look around him. This study, he felt, had a
mysterious history. After he had known his first joy, he had
visited this house ; in this room he had been read a passage from
the Anointment of the Catamite by Shunsuke. He had come

[ 395 J
 F O R B ID D EN C O L OR::.

into this room stricken with the fear of life and consulted with
Shunsuke on the abortion for Yasuko. Now he was here , captive
of neither the joys of the past nor the troubles of the past, serene
and undisturbed. Mter a time, surely, he would return the soo,­
o o o yen to Shunsuke. He would be relieved of a heavy burden,
freed of all control over his person. He would leave this room,
surely, without ever h aving to come back.
Shunsuke brought a bottle of white wine and glasses on a
silver tray and placed them before his guest. He sat down on the
window seat fitted with the Ryukyu-patterned cushions and
filled Yuichi's glass. His hand shook visibly, spilling some wine,
forcibly reminding Yuichi of Kawada's hand a few days be­
fore.
This old man is in seventh heaven, I've come on him so
quickly, Yuichi thought. There's no need to bring up the business
of the money right away.
The old man and the youth drank a toast. Shunsuke lifted his
eyes for the first time and looked at the face of this beautiful
young man he had not been able to look at until now. He said:
"Well, how are things ? How is reality? Has it pleased you?"
Yuichi smiled ambiguously. His youthful lips twisted with the
cynicism he had learned.
Shunsuke went on without waiting for an answer : "There
might be anything. Things I can't express, unhappy things,
shocking things, wonderful things there might be. But, after all,
they're not worth a thing. That's written on your face. You've
changed inside, I suppose. But to outer appearances, you haven't
changed a bit since the first time I saw you. Your exterior is not
affected at all. Reality couldn't leave a single chisel mark on your
cheek. You h ave the gift of youth. That will never be conquered
by something of the likes of reality."
''I've broken with Kawada," the young man said.
"That's good. That man has been eaten up by his own ideal­
ism. He was worried about your influence on him."
"I had an influence? "
"That's right. You can never b e influenced by reality, but you
constantly exert an influence on reality. You have turned that
man's reality into a fearful idea."
Kawada's name had been mentioned, but Yuichi quickly lost
the opportunity to mention the soo,ooo yen in the lecture that
name provoked.
 Grand Finale

Who is this old man talking to? To me? Yuichi wondered. If I

didn't know better I'd be breaking my head trying to figure out
Hinoki's crazy theories. Does he think he's talking to me, when
I'm not the least excited about these artificial things that get him
all wrought up?
Unconsciously, Yuichi's eyes moved to a dark comer of the
room. The old author seemed to be talking to another person
behi·nd Yuichi.
It was a quiet night. Other than the voices of insects there was
no sound. The gurgle of wine being poured from the bottle rang
clear, with the smooth weight of jewels. The cut-glass goblet
shone.
"There. Have a drink," Shunsuke said. "It's an autumn eve­
ning. You are there, the wine is here, there's not a thing more
this world requires. Socrates listened to the cicada's voice and in
the morning by the little stream lectured to the beautiful boy
Phaedrus. Socrates asked questions and answered them himself.
He discovered the roundabout method of arriving at truth
through questioning. But you'll never get a question from abso­
lute beauty in a n atural body. Questions and answers can only
be exchanged between things in the same category. Spirit and
body can never engage in dialogue.
"Spirit can only inquire. It can never get a reply-outside of
an echo.
"I did not choose to be in the position of questioning and then
answering. Asking is my fate. There you are, beautiful nature.
Here I am, ugly spirit. This is the eternal schema. No algebra
can bring about a mutual exchange of those terms . I don't have
any intention of deliberately belittling my own spirit. Spirit has
many quite wonderful things about it.
"But, Yuichi, my boy, love-at least my love-doesn't h ave
even the hope of Socrates' love. Love is born from nothing less
than hopelessness. Spirit against nature-the demonstration of
spirit in the face of such an incomprehensible thing as love.
"Then why do I inquire? To spirit, there is no way of proving
oneself save in inquiring of something else. Spirit that does not
inquire leads a precarious existence . . . "

Shunsuke paused. He turned about and opened the bay

window, looking through the screen and down into the garden.
There was a faint rustle of wind.
"The wind seems to be rising. Autumn is getting on. Is it hot

[ 397 ]
 F O R B I D D EN C O L ORS

in here? Since it's hot, leaving it open won't . .

Yuichi shook his head. Shunsuke closed the window again and
then, looking the youth in the face, resumed his lecture.
"There we are. Spirit constantly formulates questions. It must
store up inquiries. The creative power of spirit lies in its ability
to create questions. Thus the supreme objective of spirit is in the
creation of the question itself-in short, the creation of n ature.
But that is impossible. Yet the march toward impossibility is the
method of spirit.
"Spirit is-well, it is the drive to pile zero on zero endlessly in
order to arrive at one.
"Let's say I ask you : Why are you so beautiful?' Can you
answer? Spirit from the beginning anticipates no reply."
His eyes stared fixedly. Yuichi tried to return the stare.
Yuichi's power as one who sees, however, had been lost, as if he
had been put under a spell.
The beautiful youth was looked at-willy-nilly. What tower­
ing impoliteness there was in that look! It turned its object to
stone, it robbed him of his will, it reduced him to nature.
Of course, that look wasn't directed at me, Yuichi thought, in
terror. Mr. Hinoki's look was undoubtedly directed at me, but
the thing Mr. Hinoki was looking at was not me. Another Yuichi
who is not me is in this room.
That was nature itself, the Yuichi who yielded nothing to the
ancient statues in their perfection-Yuichi saw clearly the sculp­
tures of the beautiful youths beyond his powers of seeing. An­
other beautiful youth clearly existed in that study-a youth who
never shrinks no matter how much he is stared at.
The sound of wine being poured into a glass brought Yuichi to
his senses. He had been dreaming with his eyes open.
"Drink," said Shunsuke, bringing his glass to his mouth and
going on with his talk.
"So, beauty, do you see, is on this side, yet unreachable. Isn't
that right? Religion always puts the other side, the future world,
over there in the distance. Distance, however, in man's concept,
in the long run is something that can be traversed. Science and
religion only differ in re spect to the distance. The great nebula
six hundred and eighty thousand light-years away, similarly, can
be reached. Religion is the vision of reaching; science is the
technique of it.
 Grand Finale

"Beauty, on the other hand, is always on this side. It is in this

world, in the present, finn ; it can be touched with the hand.
That our sexual appetites can taste it is beauty's precondition.
Sensuality is, therefore, essential. It confinns beauty. However,
beauty can never be reached, because the susceptibilities of
sense, more than anything else, block attainment of it. The
method by which the Greeks expressed beauty through sculpture
was a wise one. I am a novelist. Of all the rubbish that has been
invented in modem times, the profession I have chosen is the
worst. Don't you think that for the expression of beauty it is the
most bungling and low-class of professions?
"Right here, a thing that cannot be touched. When I say this,
you must know what I mean. Beauty is the nature under man's
nature, under man's condition. Among men, it controls men most
deeply. It is beauty that defies mankind. Thanks to beauty, spirit
carrnot get a moment of decent rest."
Yuichi listened. He felt as if, close by, the sculpture of the
beautiful youth was listening intently in the same way. In the
room the miracle had already occurred. After the miracle had
occurred, however, only a commonplace quiet occupied the
place.
"Yuichi, my boy, in this world there are times known as the
supreme moments," Shunsuke said. "They are moments of the
reconciliation of spirit and nature, the conjunction of spirit and
nature in this world.
"Their expression is nothing if not impossible for human
beings while they are alive. Living men can taste those moments ,
perhaps, but they cannot express them. That goes beyond
human powers. Do you ask : 'Then human beings cannot express
superhuman things?' That would be a mistake. Human beings in
truth carrnot express the ultimate in human conditions. Human
beings carrnot express the highest moments that occur to human
beings.
"The artist is not capable of everything, nor is expression
capable of all. Expression is always being pressured to make
alternative judgments. Expression or action? The action of love,
now-without action man c annot love. So he expresses it after­
ward.
"The truly important problem, however, is the thing in which
expression and action might be possible simultaneously. Of

[ 399 ]
 F O R B I D D E N C O L ORS

these, man Imows only one. That is death.

"Death is action, but there is no action so supremely unitary as
this-oh, yes, I made a mistake."
Shunsuke smiled.
"Death does not go beyond truth. Suicide might be called
death through action. A man cannot be born of his own will, but
he can will to die. This was the basic proposition of all the
ancient suicide philosophies. However, there can be no doubt
that in death, the action known as suicide and the expression of
all that is life can come simultaneously. The supreme moment
must wait for death. This can be proved in reverse, it seems.
"The highest expression of the living-occupying at best the
second highest position-is the total form of life minus alpha. To
this expression add the alpha of life, and life is complete. Why?
Even while expressing it men go on living-undeniably their
lives are excluded from expression, but they are only simulating
a temporary death.
"This alpha, how men have dreamed about i t ! Artists' dreams
are always connected with it. The fact that life dilutes expres­
sion, robs the real preciseness from expression, everybody is
aware of. The preciseness that the living conceive of is only one
form of preciseness. To the dead, for all I know, the sky we think
blue may glimmer green.
"It's a strange thing. When living men are driven to hopeless­
ness in trying to express this, again and again it is beauty that
comes rushing in to save them. It is beauty that teaches that one
must stand one's ground firmly among the impressions of life.
"And now we see that beauty is bound by life and sensuality.
It teaches men to have faith only in the validity of sensuality. In
that respect, indeed, we may understand how beauty is logical to
men."
When Shunsuke had finished speaking, he laughed softly and
added : "Well, that's all. It wouldn't be right to have you fall
asleep. There's no reason to hurry tonight ; after all, you haven't
been here for a long time. If you've had enough wine . . ."

Shunsuke saw that Yuichi's glass was still full.

"Well ! Shall we play chess? Kawada taught you how, I sup­
pose."
"Yes, a little."
"Kawada was my teacher, too. Of course, he didn't teach u s

[ 400 ]
 Grand Finale

chess so that we could play on into an autumn night in this way.

This board, now-" He pointed to a fine old board with pieces
arranged in their places.
"I found it in an antique shop. Chess is now perhaps my only
debauchery. Can you stand it?"
"I don't mind."
Yuichi did not deter him. He had forgotten that he had come
here to return the soo,ooo yen .
''I'll give you the white men."
On either side of the chessboard the unfinished glasses of
white wine shimmered. Then the two men were quiet; only the
faint click of moving pieces broke the silence.
As they sat thus, the presence of another person in the study
made i tself evident. Yuichi looked over his shoulder several
times toward the invisible statue that was observing the moves of
the chessmen.
There was no way of estimating wh at time they spent in this
way, whether long or short they did not know. If the "supreme
moment," as Shunsuke had called it, were to come in a moment
of unawareness like this, it would surely go by unnoticed. One
game was over. Yuichi had won.
"Well, I lose," the old author said. In his face, however, de­
light flowed. He wore a peaceful expression Yuichi had never
seen before.
"Maybe I had too much to drink and that beat me. Let's try a
return bout. Maybe I'd better sober up . . ." As he said this he
poured some water into a cup from the pitcher in which thin
slices of lemon had been floating. He stood up, holding the cup :
"Excuse me just a moment."
He went into the library. Mter a while he lay down on the bed
in a position in which only his legs were visible. His serene voice
called to Yuichi from the study: "If I just doze off a little, I'll
sober up. Wake me in twenty or thirty minutes. When I wake up
I'll play you that return match. Wait, now."
Yuichi moved to the window seat. He stretched his legs com­
fortably and toyed with the chessmen.
Mterward, when Yuichi went to wake him, Shunsuke did not
answer. He was dead. On the table near his head, held down by
his wrist watch, was a slip of paper on which something had
been hurriedly written :

[ 401 ]
 FORBIDDEN C O L ORS

"Sayonara. There's a gift for you in the right-hand drawer of

the desk."
Yuichi awoke the housekeeper; the family physician, Dr.
Kumemura, was called. The doctor heard all that had been
going on. The cause of death was uncertain at first; finally it was
put down as suicide , brought about by a lethal dose of Pavinal,
which Shunsuke had been taking daily to relieve the neuralgic
pains in his knee. Yuichi was asked whether a note had been left.
He produced the slip of paper. When the right-hand drawer of
the desk was opened, they discovered a legally executed will. In
it nearly ten million yen in personal and real property and other
assets in the estate were left in entirety to Yuichi Minami. The
two witnesses were the head of the publishing firm that had pub­
lished the complete works, an old friend of Shunsuke, and the
head of his book publishing department. They had accompanied
Shunsuke to a notary in Kasurnigaseki a month before.
Yuichi's plan to return the soo,ooo yen debt had failed.
To make matters worse, he was depressed by the thought that
his entire life would be bound by the ten million yen through
which Shunsuke had expressed his love for him, though under
the circumstances depression was inappropriate. The doctor
phoned the police station, and the chief inspector carne, along
with a detective and a coroner, to look into the matter.
Yuichi replied to all questions during the investigation. The
doctor put in friendly words, and there seemed to be not the
slightest suspicion of collusion in regard to the suicide. On seeing
the will, however, the assistant police inspector inquired closely
into the nature of the relationship with the deceased.
"He was a friend of my dead father and brought my wife and
me together. In this respect he was a second father to me and
went to much trouble on my behalf. He always treated me with
great affection."
With this single perjury, Yuichi's eyes streamed with tears.
The chief investigator took these tears with professional de­
tachment. He was convinced of Yuichi's complete innocence.
The ever vigilant newspapermen came in, badgering Yuichi
with the same questions.
"Since he made you his sole heir, he must have loved you a lot,
didn't he?"
That word '1ove" among these words that had no ulterior
intent pierced Yuichi's heart.

[ 402 ]
 Grand Finale

The young man sat with a serious look on his face and made
no reply. Then he remembered he had not informed his family,
and he went to call Yasuko.
The night was over. Yuichi did not feel tired. He was not
sleepy, but he was tired of the mourners and the newspapermen
who had been crowding in since early in the morning, so he told
Dr. Kumemura he was going to take a walk.
It was a very clear morning. He went down the hill and
looked at the trolley tracks stretching away in twin, freshly
gleaming rails through the silent street. Most of the stores were
still closed.
Ten million yen, the young man thought, as he crossed the
broad street. But watch out ! You get hit by a car now and you'll
spoil it all.
A flower shop had just opened its doors. The array of plants
and blooms leaned forward with a damp, depressed air.
Ten million yen-you can buy a lot of flowers with that, the
yom1g man thought.
A nameless freedom hung heavily in his chest, heavier than
the long night's gloom. Uneasiness made his steps clumsy as he
hurried along-an uneasiness brought on by his staying up all
night, one might say. The Government Line Station came into
view; he could see the early working people gathering toward
the ticket gate. In front of the station two or three bootblacks
had already lined up.
First, get your shoes shined . . . Yuichi thought.

[ 403 ]
 A Note about the Author

YuKIO MISHIMA was the most spectacularly gifted

young writer in Japan. Born in Tokyo in 1 925,
he was graduated from Tokyo Imperial Univer­
sity in 1 947. After his first novel was published,
in 1948, he produced a baker's dozen of novels,
translations of which have by now appeared in
fifteen countries; thirty-three plays; countless
short stories; a travel book; and many articles.
He traveled widely in the United States and
Europe. Some ten films have been made from his
novels; The Sound of Waves ( 1 954, American
edition 1 956) was filmed twice, and one of
Ichikawa's masterpieces, Enjo, was based on The
Temple of the Golden Pavilion ( 1956, American
edition 1959 ) . Also available in English are Five
Modern No Plays ( 1 957) and the novels After
the Banquet ( 1960, American edition 1963 ) , Thr
Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea ( 1963.
American edition 1965 ) , Forbidden Colors ( 1951,
American edition, 1968 ) , and Thirst for Love
( 1 950, American edition 1969 ) .
O n November 2 5 , 1970, Mishima committed
seppuku (ritual suicide ) . Forty-five years old
and at the peak of a brilliant literary career, he
had that morning finished the final volume of a
cycle of four novels, The Sea of Fertility, un­
doubtedly his masterwork. The individual novels
are entitled Spring Snow, Runaway Horses, The
Temple of Dawn, and The Decay of the Angel.
Together they present a panorama of Japanese
society from 1 9 1 2 to 197�and a remarkable
literary rehearsal of Mishima's own suicide.
 A Note
About the Translator

A L FR E D H . M A R K S is professor of English at the State Uni­

versity of New York at New Paltz and editor in chief of the
quarterly Literature East & West. He began learning Japanese at
Army schools during World War II and served as Fulbright
Senior Lecturer in American Literature at Kanazawa University,
Japan, in z965-6.